It's Always the Last Place You Look
by StupidityIsStupid
Summary: Poor poor Kyle. It just hasn't been his lucky day. Or month, for that matter. And poor Stan with Wendy practically clinging to him everywhere he goes. And Cartman. Poor confused fatass. Why can't he understand his emotions? And Kenny...uh...IS poor. Yeah.
1. Make it Stop

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! I'm so so so sorry for all the stupid updates. I'm still trying to get a hang of this site. I believe that the first chapter is done now, but who knows? Thanks for the awesome reviews! But, I'd also like some critical feedback. Thanks! Also, I don't own South Park. *Sigh*

*Creak*

"Shh!" he whispered, as if it could silence the shifting house. He glanced over at his sleeping enemy and sighed in relief when he didn't awake. Silently he walked into the kitchen. The light clicked on as he opened the fridge door.

"Ha! I found you!" he yelled a bit too loudly at the food sitting on the top shelf. He heard a door open and in a whiplash motion he moved his head towards the sound.

_Shit! Go back to bed!_

The door closed again and shortly after the sound of light snoring drifted down the stairs.

_Oh thank God!_

He turned back towards the fridge and grabbed a plate of food. Glancing quickly around, he made sure no one else had gotten up. Then he stole off into the night.

When he got closer to his house, he surveyed what he had stolen.

"Awesome! Hotdogs!"

Well, they weren't actually hotdogs. Some kind of Jewish Kosher food, but goddamn they were good! His mouth was watering at just the thought of being able to eat them, soon.

He looked down at his feet and a smile broke out across his face. He'd lost quite a bit of weight since fourth grade, but everyone still called him "fatass." Oh, well. He'd grown used to it by now.

As he opened the door, he was greeted by a blinding light.

_Really?_ he thought sarcastically. _You just had to turn on all the lights, mom? As we're not losing enough money as it is!_

He walked down the hall towards his room, mumbling under his breath and turning the lights out on the way. Just as he was about to collapse in bed, he noticed a bulge.

"Mom?" he asked a little wary. "Dammit mom! Get your drunk ass outta my bed!"

She mumbled something incoherent, then went back to sleeping.

"Goddamnit, fine." He walked out and slammed the door, hoping it gave her as big a headache as she was giving him.

He sat down on the couch and looked at the clock.

2:36 AM.

He fell into a fitful, yet somewhat relaxing, sleep.

XXX

"Dude, where the Hell is fatass?" Kenny asked, not actually caring.

"Beats me," Kyle replied. "He's probably skipping."

"Again?" Stan asked. "Maybe he's sick."

"No, I doubt it. I don't think Cartman has ever gotten sick before," Kenny replied.

The boys continued walking towards first period, Government. Stan noticed someone behind the teacher's desk.

"Aw! Sweet! Substitute!" he said happily.

"Foxy substitute," Kenny added.

"I got dibs!" Kyle shouted, smirking.

"Come on, man," Stan complained. "You got dibs last time! When will we get a chance?"

"When you learn how to speak up faster. Now watch how a professional does it." Kyle grinned and walked up to the sub.

"Hello, babe," he said in a husky tone. "I was wondering if you weren't busy-"

"Mr. Broflosvki, I suggest you learn how to close your mouth. If you haven't noticed, I am wearing a wedding ring. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't spend time with a student," she stated.

Kyle stood, mouth agape, eyes wide open, and he was pretty sure he was blushing.

"You can sit down," she said sternly.

He turned and walked towards his friends, who had seen the whole thing. Stan patted him on the back. "I would wish you 'better luck next time' except next time it'll be _my_ turn!"

Kyle smiled, already feeling better. The boys took their seats. About halfway into class, Eric Cartman burst through the doors. He took his seat behind Kyle. He took out the homework from the night before, plus another piece of paper.

_Kyle,_ he wrote, _what's the answer to number one?_

He then folded the paper neatly and threw it onto Kyle's desk.

Kyle frowned when he realized who the note was from. He started to write a reply. But he was shaking.

_Shit! What the Hell?_

He grabbed for his pencil again, this time dropping it.

"Ah. Goddammit."

"Mr. Broflosvi? Do you need to take this to the office?" the sub asked. God he was hating her more and more.

"N-no. I'm…I'm good."

"Then keep your thoughts to yourself."

Something was poking him in the back.

"Kahl!" Cartman hissed. "What's the answer to number one?! Come on, stupid Jew."

Kyle was ready to fire something back, but he couldn't form any words. _Stupid, stupid headache._ He put his hands on his forehead. It was hot.

"Shit," he mumbled. His temperature had been a whopping one-hundred degrees this morning and now it felt hotter and everything hurt and he was dizzy and he still hurt and… "GOD!!! MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!!"

He froze and glanced around the classroom. But nobody was staring at him.

_Why aren't they staring?_

"Kahl," Cartman whispered, a bit louder. "Answer the effing question!"

_Oh, I must've shouted in my head. _

"KAHL!"

"WHAT?! What the FUCK do you WANT?!"

"Jeez, dude. Don't have to be so prissy. What's the answer to number one?"

"Number one? Really, fatass? Did you even study?" Kyle asked, obviously irritated.

"Uh…duh." Cartman stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, suuure. If you had actually read the book, you would know…" _Shit! Headache's back!_ "You would know…you…would know…"

"Yeah? What the Hell would I know?" Cartman asked a bit annoyed at Kyle's reaction. "What. The Hell. Would. I. Know?"

"Shut-up," Kyle muttered. "Please, for the sake of humanity, shut-up."

"I will. When you answer the question. Now, Kahl. Answer the damn question!" He screamed loud enough for the class to hear.

"Eric Cartman! Office! NOW!" Damn. She was pissed.

"Yes ma'am. God, you're almost as bad as Kyle's bitch mom," he mumbled under his breath.

Kyle was rubbing his temples. "Fuck off."

"With pleasure, Jew." And with that, he stomped out of the room making as big a scene as possible. Nobody payed attention.

Only ten minutes had passed and Kyle was starting to feel dizzy again.

"Uuuhhh…." he moaned, his head nodding dangerously close to the desk.

"Dude, stop jacking off in class," Kenny said, laughing.

"Uuhh…" _WHAT IS WRONG?!_

"Yeah, dude. Save it for the bedroom," Stan snickered.

Kyle gave him a nice view of his middle finger. He slowly stood up and stumbled to the front of the room.

_I wonder if this is how a drunk person feels?_

"Uh…Miss. Lacen? Can I use the bathroom?" he asked.

"Yes, you _may_ use the restroom. Sign out, please."

God. They still had to sign out. _We're not in fucking grade school anymore._

His hand shook when he picked up the pen and it shook when he opened and closed the door.

About halfway down the hall, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned against the wall, sighing. The cool cement felt good againt his aching body. Slowly, he slid down to a sitting position, trying to forget about the pain.

"Uuuhh…" He put his head between his knees and it felt a little better. But not enough. His eyes closed, but he didn't fall asleep.

He heard someone walking down the hall. A group of people, actually. He looked up to see a bright orange parka bouncing over. Over to Kenny's left was his "Super Best Friend." Stan had recently decided to stop wearing his blue puffball hat, showing off his silky black hair.

"Dude, where the heck were you?" Stan asked, seeming a bit concerned.

"Yeah. And why are you sitting down?" Kenny wondered.

"No reason," he sighed. "It's nothing. Just a damn headache. I'll take some Tylenol or something."

"Alright. Let's go! Football at my place!" Stan shouted, already three classrooms down the hall. Kenny was swiftly following. His best friend turned around as Kyle was standing up.

_Ha! Two Stans. Sweet._

He meant to say, "Stan, why didn't you tell me you had a twin?" but all he got out was a feeble, "Stan…" and everything was sideways and something thumped and his head hurt and there was something wet and sticky by his neck and he couldn't breathe and people were rushing over and he was screaming his head off.

"AH!! FUCK!!! SHIT SHIT SHIT!! MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!!!"

"Hey, man? Jeez, um, I'll go get someone." Who was that? Kyle turned his head slightly. Token?

"Token?" he said weakly.

"Yeah, dude. It's me."

"Token, make it stop," he said on the verge of tears. "Please."

His black friend looked worried. "Okay, man. I'll…I'll try." And he was gone, going to get help.

"Oh Mary mother of Jesus wife of Joseph., it's all sticky."

"Goddammit, Butters," Kenny muttered. "Why don't you be helpful and get Kyle a washcloth?"

"Oh, Jesus, son of God…" he said walking towards the boys bathroom.

"Hey, Kyle?" Stan? He thought so.

"Yes?"

"You'll be alright." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that fact more than Kyle.

"Yeah," he groggily replied. Everything was fading out. His eyelids were heavy. They closed and his breathing evened. And for the first time, he didn't feel any pain.

He started to write a reply. But he was shaking.

_Shit! What the Hell?_

He grabbed for his pencil again, this time dropping it.

"Ah. Goddammit."

"Mr. Broflosvi? Do you need to take this to the office?" the sub asked. God he was hating her more and more.

"N-no. I'm…I'm good."

"Then keep your thoughts to yourself."

Something was poking him in the back.

"Kahl!" Cartman hissed. "What's the answer to number one?! Come on, stupid Jew."

Kyle was ready to fire something back, but he couldn't form any words. _Stupid, stupid headache._ He put his hands on his forehead. It was hot.

"Shit," he mumbled. His temperature had been a whopping one-hundred degrees this morning and now it felt hotter and everything hurt and he was dizzy and he still hurt and… "GOD!!! MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!!"

He froze and glanced around the classroom. But nobody was staring at him.

_Why aren't they staring?_

"Kahl," Cartman whispered, a bit louder. "Answer the effing question!"

_Oh, I must've shouted in my head. _

"KAHL!"

"WHAT?! What the FUCK do you WANT?!"

"Jeez, dude. Don't have to be so prissy. What's the answer to number one?"

"Number one? Really, fatass? Did you even study?" Kyle asked, obviously irritated.

"Uh…duh." Cartman stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, suuure. If you had actually read the book, you would know…" _Shit! Headache's back!_ "You would know…you…would know…"

"Yeah? What the Hell would I know?" Cartman asked a bit annoyed at Kyle's reaction. "What. The Hell. Would. I. Know?"

"Shut-up," Kyle muttered. "Please, for the sake of humanity, shut-up."

"I will. When you answer the question. Now, Kahl. Answer the damn question!" He screamed loud enough for the class to hear.

"Eric Cartman! Office! NOW!" Damn. She was pissed.

"Yes ma'am. God, you're almost as bad as Kyle's bitch mom," he mumbled under his breath.

Kyle was rubbing his temples. "Fuck off."

"With pleasure, Jew." And with that, he stomped out of the room making as big a scene as possible. Nobody payed attention.

Only ten minutes had passed and Kyle was starting to feel dizzy again.

"Uuuhhh…." he moaned, his head nodding dangerously close to the desk.

"Dude, stop jacking off in class," Kenny said, laughing.

"Uuhh…" _WHAT IS WRONG?!_

"Yeah, dude. Save it for the bedroom," Stan snickered.

Kyle gave him a nice view of his middle finger. He slowly stood up and stumbled to the front of the room.

_I wonder if this is how a drunk person feels?_

"Uh…Miss. Lacen? Can I use the bathroom?" he asked.

"Yes, you _may_ use the restroom. Sign out, please."

God. They still had to sign out. _We're not in fucking grade school anymore._

His hand shook when he picked up the pen and it shook when he opened and closed the door.

About halfway down the hall, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned against the wall, sighing. The cool cement felt good againt his aching body. Slowly, he slid down to a sitting position, trying to forget about the pain.

"Uuuhh…" He put his head between his knees and it felt a little better. But not enough. His eyes closed, but he didn't fall asleep.

He heard someone walking down the hall. A group of people, actually. He looked up to see a bright orange parka bouncing over. Over to Kenny's left was his "Super Best Friend." Stan had recently decided to stop wearing his blue puffball hat, showing off his silky black hair.

"Dude, where the heck were you?" Stan asked, seeming a bit concerned.

"Yeah. And why are you sitting down?" Kenny wondered.

"No reason," he sighed. "It's nothing. Just a damn headache. I'll take some Tylenol or something."

"Alright. Let's go! Football at my place!" Stan shouted, already three classrooms down the hall. Kenny was swiftly following. His best friend turned around as Kyle was standing up.

_Ha! Two Stans. Sweet._

He meant to say, "Stan, why didn't you tell me you had a twin?" but all he got out was a feeble, "Stan…" and everything was sideways and something thumped and his head hurt and there was something wet and sticky by his neck and he couldn't breathe and people were rushing over and he was screaming his head off.

"AH!! FUCK!!! SHIT SHIT SHIT!! MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!!!"

"Hey, man? Jeez, um, I'll go get someone." Who was that? Kyle turned his head slightly. Token?

"Token?" he said weakly.

"Yeah, dude. It's me."

"Token, make it stop," he said on the verge of tears. "Please."

His black friend looked worried. "Okay, man. I'll…I'll try." And he was gone, going to get help.

"Oh Mary mother of Jesus wife of Joseph., it's all sticky."

"Goddammit, Butters," Kenny muttered. "Why don't you be helpful and get Kyle a washcloth?"

"Oh, Jesus, son of God…" he said walking towards the boys bathroom.

"Hey, Kyle?" Stan? He thought so.

"Yes?"

"You'll be alright." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that fact more than Kyle.

"Yeah," he groggily replied. Everything was fading out. His eyelids were heavy. They closed and his breathing evened. And for the first time, he didn't feel any pain.


	2. I Hate Needles

**Author's Note:** GAH! This is really getting on my nerves. I think I've gotten all the little problemos solved. I think. Don't own South Park. Blah blah blah....

"I'm sorry boys, but immediate family only," the nurse stated.

"But come on! We're practically related!" Stan whined.

"You got that right," Kenny laughed. He pointed at Stan then in the general direction of Kyle's room. "Those two are practically married, they're so gay for each other. I mean, just the other day, I caught Stan-"

"Knock it off Kenny!" Stan hissed at his perverted friend. "Look," he directed his attention back to the nurse, "How about you give us a break?"

"I'm sorry boys, but immediate family only," she repeated.

"Ah. God. Dammit," Stan said, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers and creasing his forehead. "God fucking dammit. Let's go, Kenny."

_Bye Kyle. Get better, 'k?_

XXX_  
_

Kyle opened his eyes, blinking when he was greeted with a bright light.

"Uhh," he groaned softly.

He looked over to his right, at a figure sleeping in a chair.

_Chair? I don't have a chair like that in my room…_

The figure moved slightly, and Kyle could see that it was his adopted brother. His chest moved up and down, a bit unevenly. Almost like he was…he was…

"Ike? Are you crying?"

Ike looked up, yawning. And sure enough, fresh tears glistened against his pale skin. Shock broke out across his face.

"…Kyle?" he asked, unsure if this was a dream. The boy nodded.

"That's my name." He smiled.

"Kyle?" he asked again. "Kyle! Oh my God! You're awake! Oh, Jesus! Wait until everyone hears!!"

"Huh?" _Awake? Of course I'm awake._

"Oh," realization hit Ike. "You probably don't remember…"

"What?"

"You fell…and there was a whole lot of blood. You kept yelling at us to 'make it stop.'"

"Oh." He remembered now. He felt better. There wasn't any pain. Just a strange, numbing sensation in his arm. He glanced down and winced when he saw an IV connected to him, and a clear liquid dripping from a bag. It flowed down the tube and filled his body.

"Are you alright?" his brother asked, noting how Kyle had grimaced.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't stand needles. Especially when they're in me…"

"Really?" Ike's expression was bewildered. "Dude, you're diabetic. You stick needles in yourself all the time."

Kyle was silent.

"Wait? You don't?"

"Not usually. I'm supposed to, but I rarely do. I'll pretend to so mom doesn't get on my case," Kyle admitted.

"Damn," was all Ike could manage to say.

"So, how long have I been here?"

Ike blinked. "What? Oh, almost four days, I think." He was lost in thought. "Yeah.. Four days today."

"Crap. That long? Was I sleeping the whole time?" Kyle asked, laughing. He stopped when he saw his brother's sad face.

"Sure, I suppose you could say that." He smiled, but Kyle could see it was forced. "You were comatose for most of the time."

"Oh. Wow. I'm sorry." Kyle wasn't sure why he was apologizing. "So, uh, has anyone else visited?"

"Um…Stan and Kenny have been coming here everyday. It's too bad, though. Immediate family only."

_Jesus Christ, mom._

"And Token…and uh…Butters, I think. Oh, and like half the track team came. Wendy came by, too, but I think seeing you was second on her wish list."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Making her moves on Stan?"

"Yep, you guessed it. It's kind of sad, if you think about it. I mean, Stan is gay and Wendy, well she-"

"-Can't seem to get it through her thick head." Kyle finished. Ike nodded.

"Maybe someday…"

"I doubt it."

Kyle yawned. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

"I should probably let you sleep. I'll…um….stay. If that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, please do." He shut his eyes and drifted off.

XXX

Someone was knocking on the door.

"Auugh." The noise was making his head hurt. He'd been released from the hospital only a couple days ago, but all he'd done since he got back was lay on the couch. It was a bit annoying, not being able to do anything because whenever he moved, everything hurt. But the thing that irritated him the most, was that no one told him why he had been the hospital in the first place.

The rapping continued.

"God, just a sec!" Kyle shouted, hoping the person outside the door would hear him. The tapping went on.

_Goddammit._

Kyle reached over and grabbed a blanket on the sofa. He wrapped it around himself and gingerly got up. The knocking got louder.

"JESUS. I'll be right there!"

He grumbled as he made his way over to the door. He opened it, revealing Stan and Kenny standing with water dripping off of them.

_Oh, shit. It was raining?_

"Hey guys. Uh, sorry about that," Kyle laughed nervously.

"Asshole," Stan replied, smiling.

Kenny just flipped him off.

"Kyle, bubby, who is that?" his mom's voice drifted out of the kitchen.

"Just Kenny and Stan, mom," he answered.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Broflovski, I won't get gay with your son!" Stan joked. He wasn't afraid to be open with his sexual orientation.

"Ha! I might!" Kenny joked back.

"Dude, sick!"

"Kyle, close the door. You're letting out the hot air," his mom complained.

"You guys wanna come in, or something?"

"Naw," Kenny said. "We just came over here to stand in the rain and look inside your nice, warm, cozy house."

"Oh, ok." Kyle started to close the door. Kenny pushed it back open, forcing his way in. Stan was close behind.

"You suck, Broflosvki. Big time."

"I know. Make yourselves at home. You can sit anywhere, except the couch. That is mine." Kyle led them to the living room. "I'm surprised my mom hasn't kicked you out yet. She's been a smidge overprotective of me, lately."

"Yeah? I don't blame her. You look like shit," Stan stated.

"That's funny, since I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Kyle snickered, plopping back down on the couch. He sighed happily. Kenny fell next to him and Stan sat down in a chair.

"How've ya been?" Kenny asked.

"Eh, been better. This whole bedrest thing is starting to suck."

"Try dying all the time," Kenny quipped.

"You have it easy, Ken. At least you come back. If I die, I'm dead forever."

"Yeah, I guess that's true…"

"You know it's true," Kyle replied. "But you're lucky in one way…"

"How?"

Kyle frowned. "I know this may seem, well, a bit odd, but…uh…you get to experience more."

"More?" Kenny asked, confused. Then it dawned on him. "Oh. More. As in, a wider variety of deaths?"

"More or less," Kyle said. He put up his hand while Kenny opened his mouth. "No, no. Let me explain. I die once. Choke, drown, old age, whatever. Boom, it's done, no more Kyle. You, on the other hand, get hit by a car every other day, but you come back. Some-freaking-how, you come back. You've been to Hell and Heaven and everywhere inbetween." He paused. "I won't ever get to do that. It sounds stupid, I know, but I just don't know how to explain."

Kenny looked at him, frowning slightly. "I understand, Kyle," was all he said.

The boys glanced at each other, realizing how awkward this was. This was the first time they had discussed death, Kyle's in particular, like it was normal.

"Bubby, your friends need to leave. The doctor told you that you needed to sleep."

Kyle groaned. "Sorry dudes. You gotta go. See you after school?"

Stan smiled. "Hell yeah! See ya!"

And with that, Kenny and Stan walked away.

XXX

Oh God. Only ten more minutes and history would be over. Somehow, the boy's old teacher, Mr/Mrs. Garrison, had managed to get a teaching job at, you guessed it, the high school. And now he was deep in debate about…uh…

"…a pile of steaming shit. And that, class, is why Jessica Alba should be naked in more of her movies."

The bell rang. _Oh thank fucking God,_ Kenny thought. _Lunch!_

He darted out of his seat and was partway out the door when, suddenly, he was being pulled aside.

_What the fuck?_

He noticed a pair of large hands, clutching his jacket. "Jesus, Cartman. What the Hell's the matter with you?"

Cartman released his friend, and Kenny would've walked away, had he not looked up and seen the expression on Eric's face.

"Hey, dude? You alright?"

Cartman's eyes were blank and he seemed to be lost in another world. "Kenny," he said finally, "I know how you feel..."

"Huh?"

"…about being poor. I understand now. I thought I did when my mom gave away all my money to charity, but I was wrong. Being poor sucks major ass."

"Goddamit! You know absolutely NOTHING about being poor, fatass!!"

Cartman's eyes were wide. "Yes, yes I do. It sucks, Kenny. But you'll help me." It seemed to be more of a demand than a request.

"No." Kenny's answer wiped the smile off of his friend's face. "Just because I'm poor, and you're poor, doesn't mean I'll help you out."

"But Kennay!"

"No buts about it. You got everything confused. Poor people don't help each other. We help ourselves. You're thinking about gangs. Being brother's and all."

"No Kennay," said an annoyed Eric. "I was thinking about poor people."

"Fuck off, Cartman." Kenny quickly walked away, towards the cafeteria.

"Well…fine. You po' piece of white trash!"

"Right back at ya!" was the muffled reply.

XXX

The window creaked slightly as he lifted it up. He grunted with the effort of holding that up, while not falling off of Kyle's house. The window fell with a loud BANG and it was a wonder nobody woke up.

"…Goddammit fatass," Kyle mumbled very softly, so no one could hear.

Cartman silently snuck into Kyle's room. Again. He headed down the winding staircase towards the fridge. Again.

_Hotdogs, here I come!_

He opened the door, then froze, hearing shuffling behind him.

_SHIT! SHIT! Gotta move! Gotta get out! Gotta..._

"Move over," someone demanded.

_Oh shit._

"Kyle?"

"Move over," he repeated.

Cartman slid sideways and watched as Kyle reached in the fridge and grabbed a Sprite.

"Hotdogs are in the freezer. You'll have to put them in the microwave," he said nonchalantly.

"Uh…" he was unable to speak. This was just…odd. "O-ok, Kyle."

"You really should learn to use the front door. It's easier. Or so I've heard."

"Easier for what?" Eric asked, realizing Kyle was actually awake and not sleepwalking.

"Sneaking into my house." _Duh._

"I…I wasn't sneak-sneaking into your house." _Stupid, Cartman. Stupid._

Kyle looked at him and frowned. "Whatever you call it, then."

"Uh…umm…" Then an idea hit Cartman. "Kyyyle," he said in a spooky voice. "I am not Eric Cartman! Wooooo…..I am a figment of your imaginaaaation……Wooooooo. You are haluuuucinaaating me. Wooooooo. I shall…..uh……disssssapeeear now………WOOOOO!!!!" and with his final "Wooo" Eric Cartman slipped out the front door.

XXX

At school the next day, Eric did everything he could to appear normal. He ripped on Stan for being gay, Kenny for being poor, and Butters for stuttering. Hell, he even ripped on Wendy for being a slut. But the whole time, he was thinking about Kyle.

_Did he believe my act? I barely did..._

He sat down and was surprised, shocked actually, that a green ushanka was blocking his view.

"Ky-Kyle?"

"What of it, fatass?" was the response. He turned back around to face the teacher. "We need to talk. After class."

"Uh….sure. Jew," he added.

As soon as both boys were in the hallway, Kyle grabbed Cartman's hand and pulled him over by the water fountain. He leaned forward, like, like…

_Oh crap! Is he going to kiss me?_

But, no, wait…Kyle moved slightly to the left and his mouth was moving next to Cartman's ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Cartman was taken aback. "About wh-what?" he stuttered.

"About your mom."

"What about her?" Cartman was angry, now. Jesus, all Kyle did was pull him over to say something about his goddam crack whore mom.

_Jesus, Kyle._

"I'm so sorry," Kyle repeated. "You should start using the front door. It's unlocked. And a lot quieter than going through my window."

"Wh-what? I…I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Of course not." Kyle smiled a bit. "I'll see you later." He walked away.

XXX

_What the Hell was that all about?_ Cartman thought as he angrily stomped on the dry sidewalk. He passed by a house, and it's motion sensor light flickered to life. He was remembering the conversation he and Kyle had in school.

He continued trudging around, aimlessly. Until he ended up at the last place he wanted to be, next to home.

Cartman hesitantly walked up to the front door.

_He said it'd be unlocked...He was practically inviting me in..._

The door opened easily. He walked into a brightly lit room.

"Auugh."

"Hey fatass. What took you so long?"

_Ah. Goddammit._

"I…uh…got lost? In your imaaaaaginatiiiiiion…"

Kyle scowled.

"Wooooo?"

Kyle shook his head. "I'm not an idiot, Cartman. Even you know that."

Cartman sighed. _Damn. _"Yeah. I know."

"Can you just explain why?"

"Huh?" Eric was puzzled. "Explain what?"

"Why you come here every night."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that." Kyle's tone was a bit exasperated.

"I uh…" _Come on dude! Think!_ He gave up. "Food," he said truthfully.

"I got that. But why do you need food?" Kyle asked.

Cartman sat down next to Kyle on the couch. "My crack whore sonofabitch mother. That's why. She's finally partied our money away. Ten bucks," he laughed. "Ten fucking bucks is all I have left. Do you know how many years of college that'll pay for? Ha! It barely pays for lunch!"

_Holy shit! How does he do that?_

"How the fuck do you do that?"

"Do what?" Kyle was confused, now.

"Make people spill their guts. Do you have some special Jewish powers or something?"

Kyle laughed, a light and somewhat girlish noise coming from his throat. "Cartman, for the last time, Jewish people don't have special powers."

"Well, whatever it is, stop. I feel weird telling you things like that."

"You're welcome here, you know," Kyle said quietly. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Uh…thanks? I think." He paused. "Yeah. Thanks. It sure beats being at home, talking to a passed out bitch." He thought quietly to himself. "You know, Kyle, maybe, just maybe, you aren't such a good for nothing Jew, after all. Unless we're with others. Then you suck. Ok?"

"Yeah," Kyle laughed again. "And you're not a stupid fatass. Unless we're with people. Then _you_ suck."

"Deal."

_Wow. Did we just say what I think we said? Did I just tell Kyle, smartass, goody-goody two shoes, Jew-boy Kyle, that I don't hate him?Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck..._

"Uh…I should…pr-probably…umm…head home. Uh…so, yeah. See ya tomorrow. Jew."

Kyle was already halfway up the stairs. "Yeah. See ya." He waved as Cartman walked out the door with a bewildered look.

XXX

Kyle was waiting impatiently in the lobby of where he worked. His boss had called him earlier saying she wanted, "…to talk. Soon." He wondered what that meant.

_What would we talk about? I haven't been here for awhile. Maybe she's just helping me catch up in what I missed..._

"Mr. Broflosvki?" A voice broke through his thoughts.

"That's me."

"You may go in now." Damn. Just as he was calming down, nervousness passed over him, again.

He half walked, half stumbled to the door that led to the person who decided his fate.

_Please, please, please..._

"Ah. Mr. Broflosvki. Kyle. Come. Have a seat."

He sat, mechanically. "You wanted to talk to me?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Kyle, you haven't been to work for the past two weeks."

"Yeah, I was si-"

"Do not interrupt me," she said sharply. "As I was saying, you were gone. Sick, I know. However, you did not follow the company's policies."

"Which policies?"

"For one thing you never called in to let us know you would be out of work. Another thing is that you were supposed to ask someone to sub in for your shift, which you failed to do. Are there any questions?"

He sat, shocked. "N-no. I'm sorry for any inconviences this has caused you and the company. I promise to work twice as hard-"

"There is no need," she said coldly. "You are only here to sign this form, saying you voluntarily quit." She took out a slip of paper and slid it towards Kyle.

"But..." he stammered.

"I'm sorry Broflosvki. You were a good employee. I'll put in some good words for you at your next place of employment." She pointed at the paper. "Please sign here."


	3. Nnno Mmore Hotdogs

**Author's Note:** Oh! Poor Kyle! I'm so mean to him! Also, I do NOT own South Park. I wish I did. And I do not own the lyrics in the story. It's the chorus from Untouched by the Veronicas.

"And then what happened?"

"I signed the paper, Kenny."

Stan looked over at his friend, worried. Kyle caught his glance.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to decide if you're going to fall into a depression or something," Stan responded.

"No," Kyle laughed feebly. "I don't plan on that. I _was_ wondering if something's wrong with me."

Kenny glared at him. "What would be wrong with you?" he asked angrily.

"I don't know. It's just, bad luck seems to be following me everywhere. I'm starting to think I'm cursed or something."

"Bad luck?" Stan asked. "Like what?"

"Well, I collapsed at school in unbearable pain," he winced at the memory, "and just yesterday, I was fired. I just know something horrible is going to happen to me, again."

"Yeah, right. Nothing-" Stan started, but was cut off by a loud CRASH followed by a, "Mother fucker!"

"SHIT!" Stan shouted. Kenny jumped up, then examined his body carefully, surprised to see that blood wasn't oozing out. Only Kyle seemed unperturbed by the noisy disturbance.

"Hey! Fatass! Use the FREAKING DOOR next time!!" he yelled.

A voice carried down the stairway. "Yeah, well, get a new window, JEW!"

"Fuck," Kyle mumbled. He looked at Kenny and Stan's scared expressions. "Be right back, dudes. Gotta deal with something." And he was going up the steps, two at a time.

A short while later, Kyle came back down the stairs, followed by Cartman.

"Hey dudes!" he shouted happily.

"Cartman?!" Kenny screamed.

"That's my name. Don't wear it out." He sat down on the couch, next to a still surprised Stan. "Hey dude."

Stan looked at Cartman, then to Kyle, then back again. "What the Hell?" he whispered.

Kyle glanced over and rolled his eyes. He turned his attention back to Cartman. "Alright, man. You know where they are." He waved his hand, as if dismissing someone.

"Yep. Be right back. Want anything?"

"Nah. You guys want something?"

But Stan and Kenny were too confused to answer. Kenny spoke what was on both of their minds. "This…this…Cartman? An-and you. Ta-ta-talk? What. The. Fuck?"

Kyle snickered. "Sorry, I can't tell you. Super secret oath thing."

"What. The. Fuck?" Kenny said again.

Stan continued to stare disbelievingly. "Super secret oath?"

"Thing," Kyle finished.

Something seemed to be haunting Kenny. He finally spoke. "Did-did you seal the…uh…oath with a k-k-kiss?"

"WHAT?! GOD FUCK NO!!" Kyle's happy smile was replaced by one of disgust.

"Oh, thank God. I was really worried for a second there." Kenny shook his head, trying to get to picture of Kyle and Cartman...kissing, out. "You're not going to tell us, though, are you?"

"No. Not now. Maybe later."

Cartman walked back into the living room with a blank expression. "Kahl," he said slowly, forming each letter and letting it flow out of his mouth. He continued. "Kahl, I…I ate them all."

Stan looked over at Kenny, who shrugged. He glanced back over at Kyle, who's back was to him. He could see Kyle was shaking, trying to hold in the rage. Stan reached forward and firmly gripped his best friend's shoulder.

"Hey, dude, calm down," was all he said before Kyle was on the ground.

_Shit! He's twitching! They let him out too early!!_

Then he realized that Cartman was on the ground, too.

_What the heck?_

And they were both spasming and a strange noise was coming from both of the bodies laying on Kyle's floor. It was then Stan realized that Kyle wasn't having another episode, he was _laughing_.

_Laughing? Why are they laughing? I don't get it._

"You-you ate ALL of them?" Kyle gasped.

"Every last one! No m-m-more hotdogs!" Cartman panted.

"You suck, dude. You really suck."

"Kenny?" Stan said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm confused."

"Me, too. Let's go."

And the two boys left the two enemies jerking on the floor.

When they had finally relaxed, Cartman looked at the clock.

"Oh, shit. I gotta go. Nice talking to you again, Kyle."

"You too, Cartman. Good luck."

"Thanks. See you at school," Cartman said as he shut the front door behind him.

Kyle walked into the kitchen and eyed the cupboard. He opened it and revealed a stash of beer bottles. He grabbed one and gently twisted the cap off.

_What the Hell,_ he decided.

Kyle took a nice long swig, tilted his head back, and swallowed the lukewarm beverage, loving the burning sensation it gave the back of his throat. Before he knew it, the bottle was empty and Kyle was starting on another. He staggered back into to the couch.

_Jeez, only took one drink and I'm already acting drunk. What a wimp I am,_ Kyle scolded himself.

Just as he was about to sit down, the door opened violently.

"Mom?" he asked, just a tad scared.

He heard deep, heavy breathing. A raspy voice answered. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?"

If Kyle had only been a tad scared before, now he was scared shitless. He turned his head towards the sound. He found that a middle-aged man was standing in his kitchen. The man wore a tattered grey shirt and ripped blue jeans. The smell of alcohol coming off of him was strong.

_Or is that me?_

The stranger looked Kyle over, holding his gaze too long in certain areas, making Kyle want to curl up in a corner and hide within himself. If that was even possible.

"You have a very beautiful house, Kyle," the man said.

_KYLE? HE KNOWS ME! HE KNOWS MY NAME! SHIT! SHIT!_

All he could do was stare. The man seemed to be expecting a response, so Kyle nodded slightly. The man smiled.

"A bit nervous, are we? Don't worry. It'll be over quickly."

_QUICKLY!? SHIT!!_

The man moved closer to Kyle, making the boy cringe away.

"Don't be scared. I'll be nice," he promised. He reached over and gently stroked Kyle's cheek. Kyle let out a small whimper and tried backing further away, but he couldn't. He was right next to a wall. Kyle whimpered, again.

"Shh. It's alright." The stranger unhurriedly reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

_DON'T LOOK DON'T LOOK DON'T LOOK_

His eyes disobeyed his thoughts and glanced at the man's hand. A grimy set of fingers held a clean, sharp butcher knife.

_SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT_

He moved closer to Kyle, if that was even possible, and placed the knife next to Kyle's pale neck. The cold metal made him involuntarily shiver and fear crossed over his face. A thin line of blood started trickling down.

"Show me where the money is," he sweetly demanded. Kyle was frozen. "Show me where the FUCKING money IS!" He pulled Kyle aggressively away and shoved him forward. Kyle fell onto his knees and he was pretty sure he was crying.

_SHIT FUCK FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT_

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this," the man said as he pulled Kyle to his feet, "but you really aren't making this easy."

Kyle opened his mouth to scream, but only a dry sob came out. "Please," he begged.

"In good time, Kyle. In good time."

And before Kyle could react, the knife had flashed out and met his skin. And a scream was released from his mouth.

"SHIT! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!! I DON'T HAVE WHAT YOU WANT!!!"

He collapsed on the ground, his hand firmly placed against the wound. Somehow, the blood still managed to seep between his fingers. His side throbbed. He was seeing little dots dance in front of his eyes.

The stranger yanked him back up, slamming Kyle face first against the wall. He moaned as the edge of a picture frame cut into his skin. The tears and blood mixed together as they ran down his face. His hand was still clutched at his wound, but the position he was in was making the blood flow out faster.

He tugged Kyle away from the wall, again, keeping a tight grip on his arm. Kyle flinched and the stranger quickly twisted the boy's arm until he could hear a loud SNAP. Kyle, on the other hand, could actually _feel_ it. Sparks of pain shot up and down his body and his sobs echoed in the room.

XXX

"Well, Kenny. That was by far the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Stan told his friend as the walked home. Before Kenny could respond, however, a car spun out of control and hit him head on.

"Oh my God! You killed Kenny!" Stan screamed into the night.

XXX

"You bastard," Kyle hissed.

The stranger was pulling his bad arm, dragging Kyle up the stairs. Kyle's broken cries filled the house and echoed around in his head.

_SHIT SHIT YOU FUCKING BASTARD I HATE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!_

When they reached the top of the steps, Kyle was half expecting the man to take him into the bedroom. Instead, the man took a left turn and they ended up in the small bathroom. Immediately Kyle thought of something. Without any warning he slammed the stranger's head into the mirror. The glass cracked and a few shards fell into the sink. The man glared menacingly at Kyle. Lines of blood trickled down his face and out of his mouth. He plunged the knife forward.

Kyle screamed, but somehow managed to dodge the weapon. It slashed through the shower curtain. Kyle didn't have time to be relieved, though because the butcher knife was coming for him, again. This time, he was a bit too slow and a large gash was formed on his broken arm.

"I'm tired of you fucking around," the man said coldly. Some blood was dripping out of his eye and Kyle wondered if he could even see. "I'm not done with you."

"FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING GODDAMN SONOFABITCH!!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!"

This took the assailant by surprise, and Kyle took this window of oppurtunity to make a dash for it.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" The man slammed the door shut on Kyle's fingers and a sickening crunch ensued.

Suddenly he was being dragged again, but he didn't care. At this point, every part of his body was in pain and he just wanted to sleep. Everything was fading in and out and Kyle had a flashback

"…_I die once. Choke, drown, old age, whatever. Boom, it's done, no more Kyle…"_

_Boom my ass,_ Kyle thought. _This has to be the longest death ever._

But something was wrong. The man had a scared look to him.

"Oh God. What have I done? I'm horrible. I'm sorry. So sorry."

And he was gone out the door and window, leaving bloody handprints and a dazed Kyle behind.

Kyle painfully crawled into his room, a trail of blood behind him. He gingerly opened his closet and passed out in the corner, silently wishing for death.

XXX

"I feel so untouched right now! Need you so much somehow!" Cartman sang as he was walking home. Something hit him and he realized he left his coat at the Jew boy's house. He turned around and started walking back.

Out of the blue, someone darted past him. A man with gritty clothing and dried blood on his face. Cartman took none of this in and continued his trek.

When he reached the house, something didn't feel right. The door was open, slightly. He peeked in.

"Kahl?"

No one answered.

"Kahl?" he repeated. "Hey, uh, wherever you are, it's just me. I forgot my jacket."

He opened the door further, shocked to find that the lights were still on. He stepped in and felt something slick under his shoe.

"What the heck?" He glanced down and what he saw made his stomach churn uneasily. He had stepped in a small puddle of blood. _"FUCK!"_

"KYLE!?"

Very slowly, he made his way further into the house.

_Oh God oh God oh God_

"Kyle?" Quieter this time.

The silence that filled the residence was deafening to Cartman.

"Come on dude." He was frantically searching. "This isn't funny."

Something caught his eye. The picture next to the cupboard wasn't there anymore. It was on the ground, the glass cracked in multiple places. The frame was unnaturally colored with a few drops of blood.

He followed the trail of blood, slipping in it occasionally.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Kyle where are you?_

He walked up the stairs, almost perfunctorily. The sound of running water was coming from the bathroom and a quick glance told him that something was flooding over. Slowly, gingerly, he turned the faucet off.

_Kyle? Come out Kyle. Where are you?_

Now he was scared as Hell. And nothing frightened Cartman. Nothing. He never even realized he had the capability of being scared, much less being scared as Hell.

"Kyle? Please come out." It was a waste of breathe. He knew Kyle wouldn't be able to hear his soft plea.

Cartman continued following the trail, and upon seeing another puddle, landed on his knees, dry heaving.

_Fuck fuck fuck shit dammit shit shit fuck shit_

He saw that the red head's bedroom door was open and some bloody footprints were going in the general direction of the window. The window that he himself had been climbing through for the past month. Now he never wanted to touch the cool glass, again. Just the thought of doing so was making him sick.

Just as he was about to give up in his search, Cartman noticed another route. It led to Kyle's closet. Cartman was terrified at what he might find if he opened the door. It creaked slightly.

"K-Kyle?"

It was dark, almost pitch black.

_Where the fuck is the light switch?_

He took one step and his foot met with something soft and sticky. A bloodcurdling scream that would haunt his dreams for years arised from a throat that wasn't his.

"_SHIT! FUCK! KYLE!?" _

Someone groaned.

_Fuck! Where is the fucking light switch!?_

He ran his hands against the wall until he found it. He flipped it up and a bright yellow light filled the closet. Someone groaned again.

What Cartman saw when he turned was not what he was expecting. It was much worse.

There was Kyle. Jew-boy Kyle. The smartest kid in school Kyle. Shaking in the corner. His face caked with blood and bruises everywhere. His arm was a mangled mess and hung uselessly at his side. His hand was pressed against his side, although it caused him obvious pain. Cartman could see the blood flowing out between Kyle's fingers.

"Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Kyle? Fuck Kyle. Fuck." He moved closer. Kyle shied away, whimpering.

"Shh, Kyle. Shh. It's alright. It's ok. It's just me. It's only me," Cartman comforted his friend. "Fuck Kyle."

Terror filled his eyes, but bit by bit, recognition took its place.

"Ca-Ca-Cartman?" he asked, even though it hurt to move his mouth.

"Shh. Yeah. Shh. It's me, Ky. It's only me."

"Cartman? Cartman. _FUCK!_ Eric! Fuck!" He was sobbing now and Eric was next to him in a flash, gently moving strands of hair out of his face.

"Shh, Ky. It's ok. I'm right here." He continued to soothingly pet Kyle's tear stricken face. "I'm right here."

Kyle moaned quietly and moved closer to Cartman. His body was so warm and Kyle was feeling weak and cold. He just wanted to sleep.

"Ky? I'll be right back. Ok?"

He nodded.

"Alright." Cartman walked out and a couple of minutes later came back with a few damp washcloths.

"Alright Ky. I'm just going to clean you up, a bit, okay? It's going to hurt like a bitch. I'm so sorry Kyle. So sorry."

Tenderly he wiped away the dry blood on Kyle's face, avoiding the large gash by his eye. He unhurriedly made his way down to the laceration on Kyle's side.

"Shh, shh. I'm so sorry," he murmured.

He lifted Kyle's hand up and replaced it with the cloth. Upon feeling Kyle's body tense up next to him, Cartman offered another apology.

"What's that noise?" Kyle asked sleepily.

Eric lifted his head and heard sirens outside the house.

"It sounds like fireworks," Kyle said.

"Yeah. Fireworks."

"Why are there fireworks?"

"They're celebrating."

"What are they celebrating, Eric?" Kyle asked, bemused.

"You. Now go to sleep, okay, Ky?"

"Sure. G'night Eric."

"Good night, Kyle." But he was already unconcious.

XXX

Stan was there in the hospital waiting room, waiting of course, for someone to give him his forms. He needed to fill them out since he had just gotten a cast on his wrist. Because he, uh, fell. Out of bed. But he wasn't sleeping. No need to go into further detail. Just use your imaginations.

The double doors banged open and a gurney was wheeled in.

"I need some more morphine, stat!"

"He's responding, doctor!"

"There's a pulse. It's weak, though."

"Hey! You fuckheads better listen to me!"

"Sir, I need you to move if you want your friend to live."

Stan saw the figure step aside, but he continued yelling.

"You pieces of shit better help him! Or so help me God, I will fucking kill you!"

The receptionist walked over. "You'll need to sign him in." She got out a clipboard and watched as the person filled it out. He made his way over to a group of chairs and practically collapsed into one of them. Stan grew sorry for him. It was a weakness that he'd had for as long as he could remember. Without realizing it, he was suddenly next to the person.

"Hey dude. I'm sure your friend will be fine," he comforted.

The person turned around and showed a small smile. Then he frowned.

"Stan?"

"_Cartman?!"_

He shook his head. "Yeah. Why are you here?"

"Wrist. Why are _you_ here?"

"Friend," he replied sadly.

"Who?" Stan asked, sitting in the chair next to Eric.

"I'm…it's…I…fuck. It's-"

Just as he was about to tell Stan who he had checked into the hospital, a doctor appeared.

"Mr. Cartman?"

He looked up warily. "Yes. That's me. How is he? You fuckheads didn't kill him did you?"

"Your friend is in stable condition. If you'd like, you can visit him. Room 1289."

"Yes, I would like that," he responded coldly.

_Dude, what's with all the anger?_ Stan thought.

He followed Cartman to the room and when the door opened, he choked back a small scream.

"_Kyle?!"_

"Hey Cartman. Hey Stan," said the figure on the bed.

He looked horrible. Like death warmed over. There were tubes running in and out of his body. He seemed paler than usual; he almost matched the bed sheets.

"Hey dude. How's it going?" Cartman asked, avoiding Kyle's eyes.

"I can't sleep," Kyle complained.

"What? Like insomnia or something?" Stan asked.

"No. Like they won't let me."

"WHAT?! Those goddamn fuckheads better watch their backs!"

Cartman was leaning against the wall fists clenched, trying to control his anger.

"Dude," Stan begged, "calm down." He had never seen Eric this upset, this intent on hurting someone. This was almost worse that when he tried to exterminate all the Jews. Except this time he was _protecting_ one.

Cartman relaxed a little bit. "Why won't they let you sleep?" he asked.

Kyle sighed. "They say I'm in a fragile state. They won't give me any pain meds because I'll probably pass out and not wake up."

Stan sat down. "N-n-not wake up!? How can you NOT wake UP!? Kyle, you have to! You're my best f-f-friend."

Cartman glared at him. "Stan, we all know you're a fag in love with the Jew boy, but why don't you confess how much you want him up your asshole some other time." He directed his attention back to Kyle. "Go on."

"Well, they won't give me any pain meds because they think I'll fall asleep, so instead they've been injecting me with drugs to keep me awake."

"WHAT!?"

_Wait, what the Hell do I care? This is Kyle. I HATE Kyle. I've always wanted him dead. I should be celebrating........so why do I care all of a sudden? _I_ didn't hurt him. _I_ didn't make him cry. He's not _my_ problem. So why the HELL do I CARE?!?! _

"Fuck," Cartman mumbled. He _did_ care. He just wanted to know _why_. He walked out of the room, talking under his breath the whole way. "Fu-uck. Fuck."

Stan stood back up, disbelief written on his face. Eric Cartman was such a confusing person.

"You don't have to stay. I can tell how uncomfortable you are," Kyle said.

"No. That's okay. I'll stay. It'll keep me away from Wendy for awhile." He laughed, then stopped when he saw Kyle was crying. He didn't ask, just assumed. Stan sat down next to Kyle's bed. "You'll be fine."

Kyle offered a small smile.

_Oh how little you know, Stan Marsh._

** PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE ARE NO PAGE BREAKS!!!!! I've been having trouble with them, lately.......**


	4. Little Do They Know

**Author's Note:** Hey sooooo sorry for the wait! I'm waaaaaaay behind in school and I've been spending the last week catching up. Also, sorry this chapter is so short. I'll try and make the next one extra long. Hehe.

Two weeks passed by slowly. Sometime during the middle of the first, Kyle's parents came home. Everything was cleaned up, already, so neither knew the full extent of the damage. His mom heard from Stan's mom, that Kyle was in a "somewhat stable condition" at the nearby Hells Pass Hospital. By Thursday, Kyle was able to go home. He walked, with the help of crutches, to the family's car.

When they arrived home, he examined himself in the mirror. (They had bought a new one while he was in the hospital.) The cut by his eye hadn't been very deep, but it was still a bit swollen. His arm was help up with a sling and no one could see that a metal rod held his bones together. He pursed his lips together at the memory. Apparently, his bones hadn't snapped, like he thought, but instead had separated at the elbow. Both gashes were stitched up, and had this happened under different circumstances, Kyle would be counting them this very moment to show off to his friends. He looked down at his knee. According to the doctors, he had cracked his knee cap, and even though he knew when that would've happened, he didn't remember any pain.

The injuries were not the worst things, though. Kyle wouldn't talk. It started a few days after he arrived at Hells Pass. He figured he should come to terms with what happened, but it hurt too much to think about it. And not talking was so much easier than admitting the truth.

If his parents had been paying close attention to their son, they would have noticed how he flinched whenever someone said his name. That he held back a scream when anyone touched him, no matter if it was casual or not. They would have realized that Kyle avoided the upstairs bathroom as much as possible and had thrown away everything in his closet. Yes, they would have observed all of this and more, if they had been paying attention. And, as luck would have it, they weren't.

XXX

"Welcome back, Mr. Broflosvki," his teacher said. She didn't sound like she meant it. "You've missed quite a bit a school, three weeks it seems. So this time will be spent catching up, okay?"

Kyle stared at her, not bothering to nod. He still wasn't speaking.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, a sharp edge added to her tone. Sharp, like the edge of a knife. A clean, large, sharp butcher knife that glinted when turned against the light. That shimmered with blood. Kyle bit his tongue and a small convulsion rocked his body.

"Did you hear me?" Annoyance crept into her voice.

This time Kyle managed a tiny nod and then he took his seat. Once again, if anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed how his eyes seemed to be glazed over and he was lost in his own world. Nobody saw this though because everyone was dealing with their own problems, which were far superior to Kyle's, _of course._ Cartman seemed to be deep in thought, and anyone who looked at him believed he was daydreaming about food. But he wasn't. He was still trying to figure out _why_ he cared. Stan was doing his best to avoid Wendy, but she wouldn't let up. Kyle could see the two arguing out of the corner of his eye. It seemed that Wendy wanted Stan back, and Stan just wanted to be left alone. Even Kenny wasn't aware of his surroundings. No, he was looking at a Playboy magazine.

"Mr. Broflosvki? Would you please answer the question?"

His eyes snapped up, looking for the source of the noise.

"Mr. Broflosvki," the teacher repeated, "Please answer the question. Why did Anne Frank hide in someone's attic?"

It was a simple question, and everyone knew that Kyle could answer it in his sleep, except he chose not to. He kept his mouth shut. Behind him someone was jumping up and down, doing their best to refrain from speaking.

"Fine. Mr. Cartman?"

He relaxed. "Because she was a faggy Jew bitch on her period."

Some people gasped. Kyle didn't even move. He swallowed, then got up.

"Kyle," Stan said. He flinched slightly. "Kyle, be rational. This is Cartman. He's always an ass. Don't kill him because of it. Although if you do, I'll help you hide the body."

Kyle glared at his friend and then looked at Cartman for a split second. And during that time, Eric could've sworn he'd seen ten different emotions pass over Kyle's face. Pain, betrayal, confusion, anger. Kyle then proceeded to walk out the door, without making a sound.

_How could he do this?!_ Kyle thought angrily. _That fat asshole! He fucking knew and he chose to act like THAT! How low can you get? How FUCKING low!?_

Kyle regained his composure and walked back into the classroom, where people were still whispering in confusion.

"Kyle?"

_Flinch_

"Kyle," Stan repeated. "Are you alright?"

_Perfect, Stan. Never been better._

"Dude, he hasn't said anything all day," Kenny said.

"Probably on his period, huh Jew boy?" Cartman muttered. He was still trying to answer _why_.

"Goddammit Cartman, guys don't have periods!"

"No. Only Jewish guys. And they can't be considered as people. Haven't you seen _The Passion_, Stan? It clearly states that only Jewish guys have periods," Cartman said coolly.

_Shut up fatass. _

"It does not! Guys don't have periods!"

"Says the guy who took hormones to get one," Kenny broke in.

"That was once! And I was _eight_!"

_Shut up._

Cartman laughed. "You were a very faggy eight year old, Stan."

"I only took them because you made me believe that guys get periods!"

"Well, that was stupid of you, wasn't it?"

_Shut _up.

"Yeah," Kenny quipped. "You should know better than to trust Cartman."

"I was eight!"

_SHUT THE HELL UP!_

Kyle grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of his seat. Stan quickly reached over to help him, but stopped when he saw Kyle's expression. And even though no words passed from Kyle's lips, his face clearly said, "fuck off". So Stan did.

"Mr. Brofloskvi? Where do you think you're going?" the History teacher asked.

_Home._

Continuing to walk out the door, he flipped her off, and didn't bother looking back.


	5. Author's Note AKA HELP ME!

Alright people!! I am having the worst writers block EVAH! I need ideas…so I'm calling out to all of you. I want the next chapter to revolve somewhat around Stan and Wendy. (Remember, Wendy won't leave Stan alone.) How should they meet up? I was thinking something along the lines of Wendy sneaking into Stan's house, but I need some help getting to that point. Anyone care to offer suggestions? It would be greatly appreciated. And yes, I will give you credit for any ideas you give me that I use in the story. So please please please please help a fellow writer out! I really want to be able to finish this story...

Peace and Love,

StupidityIsStupid


	6. Everyone's Licked a Little Carpet

Stan glanced at his South Park Cows clock. He'd gotten it who-the-hell-knows-how-long-ago and it was still working. Surprising considering all of the things that have happened in his room that would cause a normal clock to stop working. No, his clock was abnormal. In other words, if it were human, it would be a freak.

"How the heck is that thing still ticking?" he mumbled.

"Because we live in South Park. If aliens can come down, Barbara Streisand can turn into a robot thingy, and AIDs can be cured with money, then your clock can still work."

Stan shot up from his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest. Who the Hell was in his room?! No… "how the Hell did they get in?" was the better question.

"Stan, we need to talk."

_Huh?_

"Wendy?"

"You've known me for so many years, Stan. Yes, it's Wendy." She rolled her eyes. He could be so oblivious at times.

"What the fuck!? How the HELL did you get up here? Get out! Get out!" he screamed at the uninvited guest.

She seemed stood her ground not bothering to blink. His reaction was expected, after all.

"Stan, we need to have a talk."

He glared. "We _are_ talking."

"No," she said calmly. "I'm talking. You're yelling. I'd like to have a normal conversation with you."

"Well, couldn't it wait? You'll see me tomorrow," he said slowly.

"No Stan. This can't wait. It's very important."

"What?"

_Count to ten. Count to ten._

She looked at him as if he was an idiot. Which he was starting to feel like.

_Wait. Why am I feeling like an idiot? This is MY house. MY room. And Wendy just barged in…how? _

"Wendy, how did you get into my room?"

"Your mom let me in."

He snarled. "Well, what do you want?"

"Stan, if we're going to go on like this, I just want to ask you to give me some space."

_Heh, stalker wants to be left alone. How ironic._

"You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Je-sus."

"Stan, I've been seeing how you look at others and I just wanted to make sure of something." She paused.

"Wendy, of course I'm looking-"

"Stan, do you love me?" she said quickly. She glanced over at a wall to hide her expression.

_What? Unexpected. Do I love her? I used to…now she's like an annoying little sister. So…no. I don't love you._

He was taking to long to answer. _Why is he hesitating?_ Wendy asked herself. _Unless…unless…OH GOD. He doesn't love me anymore!_

A sob broke free and Wendy's hand flew to cover her mouth. She shook her head back and forth causing the tears welling in her eyes to begin falling. Her mascara was running in little streaks down her alabaster skin. If the current situation hadn't been so…odd…Stan would've laughed and called her a zebra.

"…Wendy?" Stan debated over whether he should help her or tell her to get out of his room. He'd already tried the latter and had failed miserably. He started to get up, but remembered he only had his boxers on.

_Ah, fuck it. She's seen me like this before._

Stan walked over to his ex-girlfriend and offered his hand. She slapped it away. Stan watched as Wendy went from 'crying stalker' to 'just plain pissed off stalker'.

"Don't _touch_ me!" she wailed angrily. "I'm not good enough!" She studied his face. "Is that it? I'm not good enough? I'm not the 'one' for THE STANLEY MARSH!? Is that IT? I'll never be good enough?! I'll never be perfect!"

_Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here._

"You don't have to say anything," she continued. "Just leave me alone for a little while, ok? And you can go back to ogling Bebe and all the other sluts in town. Just leave me alone."

"Wend-Bebe!? Why the Hell would I be ogling BEBE? I don't like girls!"

A spark of hope entered Wendy's eyes. "…So that's all?"

"Yes." Stan was relieved that Wendy finally understood that he wasn't straight. Maybe she would leave him alone!

"Oh…so I'm being too girly. I need to tone it down a bit. Be more…uh…tomboyish."

"…Wha-? No. That's not what I mea-"

She silenced him with a hug. "Thank you Stan! You're the best! I love you so much!"

"But, Wend-"

"Bye Stan! I'll be your perfect girl tomorrow. I promise it!"

A bewildered Stan watched as the girl practically skipped out of his room, talking to herself.

"…What kind of shoes?...Ripped jeans…Less or no make-up?..."

_Fuck!_

XXX

"Oh em gee. Did you see her?"

"…crazy…"

"Looks creepy…"

"…her choice, I guess…"

Stan entered South Park High only to be greeted with hushed whispers from almost all the students. He spotted Kenny who motioned for him to come over.

"What's up Kenny?"

Kenny looked around quickly to make sure no one was close by. "Dude," he leaned in. "What did you do to Wendy?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Wendy, dude. You're old girlfriend."

"Yes, _Kenny_. I kinda figured that part out on my own. I mean, what did I do?"

"I don't know. What _did_ you do?" Kenny replied, but not very playfully, like he normally would have.

"Goddamnit Kenny. You worthless peace of poor ass crap! What the Hell did I do!?"

Kenny smirked. "Well, if your gonna go all 'Eric Cartman' on me and call me names, then I don't think I'll tell you anything." Stan watched as Kenny's gaze fell on someone behind Stan. "I'll just let you find out for yourself."

And before Stan could protest, he was twirled around and face to face with another boy. A very girly boy, at that. Gay, most likely. He sized the new kid up. The only thing that kept his pants up were his fingers curled in the belt loops. And even then they were barely resting on the kid's hips. Such curvy hips. Guys should not have hips like that. It's just not normal.

Stan continued looking up, and saw a light gray shirt with a green peace sign. It fit the boy nicely and definetley complemented his skin. And his boobs, too. Yeah…the shirt definitely…

Wait. Boobs? Dude. No way. It couldn't be. Could it? Was some weird Garrison craze going around?

Stan's eyes travelled to the guy's face. He had a round face with eyes the color of stormy seas. His thin, light pink lips were open partway. His hair rested right below his ears and was a deep shade of black. It was so shiny, that it looked greasy, but probably felt like silk to the touch.

It actually looked a lot like Wendy's hair, now that Stan thought about it. And those eyes…they seemed to be looking at him like they knew him.

There was no way…unless…

"Holy crap!"

It was Wendy. She had changed…everything.

"What do you think, Stan?"

"Wendy? You look…uh…" _Amazing? Heck no. Freaky? A bit._ "Different."

"Hmph," Wendy sighed. That wasn't quite the reaction she was going for. But at least he didn't say he hated it. But he didn't say he liked it either…

"…Why?" Stan asked.

"I told you, silly…wait? Are tomboys supposed to say things like that? Here, let me try again. I told you, dude, I wanted to be perfect." Wendy flashed Stan a smile.

"…Dude? _Dude?_ Did you just call me _dude?_" Stan shook his head, trying to figure out what was going on. Was Kenny playing a trick on him? He turned and Kenny seemed honestly surprised, so that was a no. Kenny was no good at keeping secrets.

"So, what do you think?" Wendy inquired.

"Um…well, you look…different."

Her eyes narrowed. "You already said that."

"Did I?" Stan attempted to fake shock. "I meant that you look…uh…unique."

Wendy thought about his answer, then nodded. "Well, that was what I was going for." She grinned. "I better get going. Class starts soon. Bye!" She winked at him.

Stan swiveled around. "Kenny? What the Hell just happened?"

"Beats me," his friend replied. "What was she talking about when she said she wanted to be perfect?"

Stan groaned. "She snuck into my room last night."

Kenny let out an audible gasp. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I really don't know. She kept going on and on about how she wanted me to leave her alone-" Kenny snorted at this, "-and that she would be my, and I quote, 'perfect girl.'"

"Freaky," Kenny replied.

"Yeah. You can't tell anyone, though. Ok? Please don't tell anyone. Wendy just hasn't been herself and I have this feeling if word got to her that she was creeping me out, she'll go crazy or suicidal or something."

"Or maybe she'll understand and leave you alone," Kenny prompted. "Come on, we'd better get to first period."

"Alright, let's go."

XXX

"Goddamnit fatass, what are you staring at?"

Cartman stroked his chin carefully. "Did Stan puke on you?"

"What? No. What?"

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"Well," he replied slowly, "Are you PMSing?"

"No," Wendy said forcefully. "I'm just changing my look around."

Cartman smiled. "Hmm…..hey ho?"

"…What?"

"Do you have a closet at your house?" he asked, doing a horrible job at holding back snickers. Oh God in Heaven, what was he up to _this_ time?

She answered cautiously. "…Yes."

"Well, Wendy, did you walk into the closet to get your clothes?" He was still giggling like a girl who just heard the juiciest rumor and was getting ready to spread it all over school.

She sighed. "_Yes_, Cartman."

"Do you walk out of the closet?"

She sighed, again. "Obviously."

By this point in time, he was full blown cracking up. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Wendy was pretty irritated by now. "What's so funny!?"

"You…came…out of…the…CLOSET!" He gasped out.

She rolled her eyes. "Goddamnit, you _are _stupid. Guys come out of the closet. Girls…uh…I don't know what they do."

"You should, ho!" Cartman shouted. "You're one of them!"

"This is pointless. Why am I even talking to you?"

Cartman took very little time to ponder this over. "Because you love me," he stated with his lips set in a firm line.

"What!? Ew! Fuck no!" Wendy gagged.

"I knew it!" he shouted accusingly. "You _are_ a lesbian! You _do_ lick carpet!"

"No I _don't_, idiot. You don't know what you're talking about!" she shot back.

"I'm right. I am. I know it! If I was wrong then why didn't you come on to me? Hmmm?"

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

He looked surprised. "Just now…when I was flirting with you? You know…you didn't do anything…"

She tried to recall any flirting. _'Because you love me.'_

"You call _that_ flirting? No wonder you don't get any girls."

"Up yours! I could get any girl I want!"

Wendy smiled. "Alright. Prove it."

"Well, I don't…uh...now?"

"Yes, now. Go charm some helpless girl." She scanned their History class over. "How about…Red?"

"Red?" He thought about this for a moment. "Ok. I'll do it."

"Good. Now go!" She shoved him towards the redhead sitting in the front row chatting with Bebe, Annie, and Kelly Van…Con…? Les…? Whateverhernameis. As soon as Cartman was out of her reach, Wendy felt bad.

_I hope this doesn't scar Red too bad,_ she thought. She fought the urge to run forward and stop Cartman, but she didn't want to look like a fool in front of everyone. She watched as Red turned in her seat only to be met by a pair of large brown eyes staring right at her.

"Jesus! Move fatass!"

"Why?" he asked, moving a little closer.

"Bubble. You've popped it."

"I have?" he asked innocently. "Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, I should be worried. I've been breathing the same air as you for almost a minute. I probably have AIDs or something, now."

The girls giggled behind their hands at this.

"Mmm," he leaned even further in, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Red stood up, closing the space between her and Cartman until their noses were just touching. "If you even look in my general direction I will tell everyone you're gay for Jimmy. Do. You. Understand?"

Cartman recoiled from the authority of her voice. "…Yeah. Bitch."

Red cupped her hands over her mouth creating a megaphone. She took in a deep breath. "Hey! Everyone! Eric Cartman is-"

"Ah! No! I'm leaving!" he yelled frantically.

Red gave him a smug look and sat back down. No one bothered asking what she was screaming about.

Wendy gave Cartman a serious look as he walked over. "How did it go?" she asked.

He glared. "How do you think?"

"Well, it sounded like it was going pretty well," she said sarcastically.

"Ay! Screw you, ho! I'm going home!" he hollered. But he just sat down in his normal spot behind Kyle, who appeared to be sleeping, and next to Stan, who was glancing nervously around the room.

"This is going to be quite a day," she whispered only loud enough for herself to hear.

**Author's Note: **

angelsgirl116: Thanks for the idea of Wendy confronting Stan.

Hypothisos: Thanks for the idea of Wendy sneaking into Stan's house.

And tobigirl, I plan on using your stalker idea later in the story!


	7. What We Need Isn't Always What We Want

Kyle lifted his head from the desk. He wasn't sleeping; he barely could nowadays what with every shift of the house, cough, and the constant throbbing pain in his side. He'd never tell, but he had managed to pop a couple stitches and had tried to put them back in. Anatomy class, the most useless class his mom forced him to take since he didn't plan on becoming a doctor, had actually come in handy. After performing 'surgery', if it could really be called that, on himself, he downed a couple pills. Kyle remembered the doctor giving the prescription bottle to him. He had said something about only taking no more than two a day and to try not to take them every day. Apparently they were strong and would affect his body quickly. Kyle had taken two and thought about taking a third, 'for the road'. He decided against it, incase his parents started asking questions. Plus, he wanted to see how the first pills affected him before he took more of them. He did put the bottle in his backpack, just in case.

He scanned the room slowly. Not talking sure had a lot of good sides. People rarely paid attention to him, which was just what he wanted. He was able to notice things, too. Like how Kenny sighed and sinked lower in his chair. How he tapped his finger on the desk and only Kyle knew that he was hiding an iPod in his parka. They had found it at the dump when Kyle spent the night at Kenny's house a couple months before. They both wondered why anyone would want to throw it out when it was in such great shape, but they didn't question it much further because it was a free iPod.

Kyle looked over a Stan. He was frowning, deep in thought. Kyle knew it didn't have anything to do with the lecture that Mr. (Mrs?) Garrison was giving. Stan had his History book upside down, so either he was really that dumb, or something entirely different was on his mind. Kyle wondered for a split second if Stan was thinking about him. He shoved that thought out of his mind as soon as it entered. Why would Stan care? He didn't deserve to have people think about him like they were concerned.

_Jesus, I'm starting to sound like a rape victim. Don't touch me! I'm diiiirty. _

He let out a small laugh. Slightly maniacal. Kyle continued looking around until his eyes landed on Cartman. Eric fucking asswipe Cartman. The seventeen year old who left him to die. Kyle knew that wasn't entirely the truth; Cartman had saved him, but he ran out when he was in the hospital room. This had surprised Kyle; he expected Eric to stay and taunt him. He thought he would stay and tell Kyle how he needed to take care of himself and that he couldn't always save him.

Yes, Kyle knew that Cartman saved his life on multiple occasions. Like when he was in the smug storm in San Francisco. He'd been high, not blind. He saw Cartman come in a rescue his whole family. He was pretty sure Butters played a role, too. And the time when Manbearpig killed him and Cartman pounded on his chest. Once again, he wasn't blind.

Kyle jumped when the bell signaling it was time for lunch rang. He grabbed his bag and walked towards the room. Kyle held back a small scream as someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, dude." It was Stan. "Wanna be my partner?"

_Partner? In crime? In life? I love you Stan, but I don't want to be your fuck buddy._

Stan noticed Kyle's confusion. "We were assigned a project. Do you want to be my partner for it? We need to write a report on something that happened in the 1800's that have an impact on our lives today," he explained.

Kyle nodded. Sure, he'd be Stan's partner. He wouldn't be a very good one since he wasn't speaking, but they'd manage.

"Awesome. Come over to my house this weekend?"

Kyle nodded, again. Then something hit him. Stan was talking to him. He wasn't acting all weirded out. He wasn't asking questions. It was almost like he didn't even care. And that wasn't a bad thing. His parents had been completely oblivious, but Stan…Stan was acting like he cared, by not bothering him.

Kyle watched as Stan walked towards the cafeteria and he actually thought about saying something. Talking to him. He wouldn't tell everything that had happened, but he'd explain some of it. Just as he was about to open his mouth, someone tapped his shoulder.

Kyle turned around quickly, and stared into the face of the school principal.

"Kyle Brofloskvi? Your mother is in the office," she said before turning on her heel and walking away.

_My mom? What the Hell is she here for? Better go see what she wants._

He headed towards the main office and looked at his mom. She was with someone. Another man. Not his dad.

_Who are you?_ he asked in his head.

"Kyle," the man spoke. "I'm Doctor Barnes."

_Doctor? I don't need to see a doctor. I'm fine._

"Your mother says you haven't been speaking for a couple weeks," he continued.

_Three,_ Kyle corrected grimly.

"Would you like to talk about it? You wouldn't have to actually say anything. Just write it on a piece of paper."

_What? Why? What kind of doctor are you?_

Then he realized what was going on. This wasn't a doctor that someone went to when they were sick or got hurt.

"You're making me see a shrink!?"

Everyone turned to look at the redhead. It took Kyle a moment to realize that he had screamed that. Well, not screamed, really. More like hoarsly whispered.

"God fucking damnit," he breathed.

"Kyle! Language!" his mom scolded.

"Fuck you mom! Who the Hell cares what the fuck I fucking say!? I'm talking, aren't I? This is what you wanted, right?" he sobbed out.

How dare she? She had no right to do this! She didn't even discuss it with him!

"Kyle, he'll help-"

"I don't need help," he snapped. That wasn't the truth, and he knew it, but there was no way he'd lose this fight. "Fuck all of you. How dare you decide what I need? You have no fucking _idea _what I need. Just stay the fuck out of my damn life!"

Kyle turned around and stormed out not seeing the figure in front of him.

He groaned as someone's head met his.

_…the fuck?_

"Oops, sorry Kyle. I-I didn't mean to r-run into you."

"Butters?"

"Aw, hamburgers. I am s-sorry. I just wanted to say that I'm glad y-you're talking, again."

_ Huh?_

"What?"

"Well, you-you're talking again. And even though you were yelling at your mom, it's still talking. My parents w-would ground me for sure if I cursed l-like that! I'm sorry you have to s-see a shrink, though."

Butters knew? He had been paying attention? Who the fuck cared that he heard about the shrink, he had listened.

"Butters?"

"Yeah, Kyle?"

He gave the young boy a quick squeeze. "Thank you," he whispered.

**Author's Note:** Sorry, it wasn't very long. But Kyle's talking, again! Please review!


	8. A Simple Game

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's so short, but I'm on a roll, so expect the next chapter by tomorrow. Please please please review!

Kyle glared at the man sitting across from him. He sat erect in the chair, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. The man in front of him was patiently waiting, tapping his pen against a notepad with very little writing on it, despite Kyle being there for almost an hour. The man had a plaque on his desk. _Dr. Wilfred Barnes_.

Kyle thought back to the trip over to the shrink's, excuse me, _psychiatrist's_, work. He'd made it a living Hell for anyone who got in his way. You should have seen the scene he made in the reception room. I won't go into full detail, but let's just say that it took three broken vases, four wailing kids, and two security officers to get him to calm down. But he wasn't truly calm. This was more like the calm before the storm. And everyone better watch their backs and sleep with one eye open if they want to see the sun rise in the morning.

Dr. Barnes sighed, drawing Kyle out of the past and into the present situation. "Kyle, this isn't going to work."

_Wow, it took you that long to realize it?_

Kyle stayed silent. He wasn't relapsing, no. He just didn't want to give any signal that he needed help. He could take care of himself just fine.

"Kyle," the doctor tried again, "we're going to play a little game."

"I like games," Kyle said slowly, unsure if this was a trick.

"Good. In this game, I'll give you a noun and I want you to tell me the first word that comes to mind. It can be a description or it can be another noun. Ok?"

Kyle nodded, his eyes not leaving Dr. Barne's. "Ok."

"First word: Pillow."

"Biter," Kyle said quickly. He laughed. He hadn't expected that to come out. He just said the first thing that came to mind.

The doctor wrote something down. "Next word: Bathroom."

Kyle grinned. This game was easy. "Mir-" he started.

_Blood, so much blood. Dripping off his face. Glass shards resting in the sink that had managed to get turned on and was pouring water full blast down the drain._

"Uh…toilet," Kyle lamely corrected.

The psychiatrist narrowed his eyes. He hadn't missed Kyle's slip of the tongue, nor the way his eyes glazed over and he seemed to be in a different place. He didn't ask what Kyle was thinking, though. He'd mention it at another meeting.

"Car."

Kyle sighed inwardly. "Acid."

Oh, shit. Had he really said that?

"Acid?" Dr. Barnes repeated.

"Uh…yeah. Long story. But it started with a Hybrid, so I guess it makes sense…" God, he really needed to watch himself.

"Hmm…" the doctor let it drop. "Photograph."

"Camera."

"House."

Kyle blinked.

_'You have a very beautiful home, Kyle.' _

"Beautiful." He barely managed to get that word out.

"Alright. Now, trip."

"Stairs."

_Shoot, should I have said that? He probably meant vacation or something. Maybe I should've said plane. Don't want to seem morbid or anything…Jesus. I'm starting to sound like Tweek. Gah! It's too much pressure!_

He smiled, despite himself.

"What's so funny, Kyle?"

"Just thinking about someone I know." He looked over at the clock. "Is it time to go, yet?"

Dr. Barnes nodded. "Yes. I'll see you next Saturday, Kyle." _And we'll talk about your slip of the tongue._

Kyle walked out of the office, upset that he'd said so much during hour he spent with Dr. Barnes.

Dr. Barnes headed towards Kyle's mom.

"Mrs. Brofloskvi, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, doctor!"

"Kyle is showing some obvious signs of trauma. Do you know anything of it?"

Sheila frowned. She remembered picking Kyle up from the hospital. She thought Kyle had been there because of his diabetes. She never bothered asking. Just assumed that he wasn't speaking because he felt bad for not taking his insulin or something. But remember, children. Assuming makes an ass of you and me.

"Nothing comes to mind," she answered after a minute. Her eyes widened. "Well, Gerald and I_ were_ gone for a week."

Barnes quickly looked up from the notepad he had been scribbling on.

"Where were you?"

"A peace rally in Washington D.C. Our children need to be able to grow up in a safe world free of naughty language and violence."

Apparently she hadn't learned her lesson during the Canadian/American war of '99. When she almost got her son (biological and adopted) killed. All over a stupid T.V. show that wasn't even on air anymore. Nope, it was time to start yet _another_ battle that would end with thousands, if not millions, of people dead. Or worse, alive, but with mental and/or physical scarring. Kyle's mom truly was a bitch.

The doctor nodded slowly. "Mm-hm. Well, ma'am, I suggest you provoke a conversation with your son. Ask him how his week went. Be his mom and he'll tell you the truth."

He wasn't too sure about that last part; Kyle signs were obvious, but he seemed like he was hiding things better than he let on. It was almost as if he wanted someone to ask questions, but he wasn't sure if he'd answer them.

"Alright, doctor. I'll be sure to talk to my bubby tonight."

He nodded again, his pen attacking the pad.

_ What could he be writing? _Sheila thought to herself. She couldn't resist the urge to peek. If it was information about her son, she felt that, being his mother, she aught to know. Perhaps it would help get him talking more.

There was nothing there. The paper had dent marks. She realized that he had only been pressing the unopened pen down, not actually taking notes. She shouldn't have been surprised, though. Anything that had to do with her son was probably kept in some secret file.

She said goodbye and shook the man's hand and grabbed her son by the shoulder.

_People seem to be doing that a lot, lately,_ was the thought that passed through Kyle's mind.

And for the first time, she noticed how he flinched. How it wasn't a true flinch. He had convulsed just slightly, and then righted himself like he'd been burned or something.

She didn't say anything, though. No, she'd ask questions later.


	9. Snapping Never Felt So Bad

**Author's Note:** Hey, I lied. I said I'd have this chapter up a couple days ago, but as you can probably tell, that did not happen. I won't be updating for a few days (until Tuesday or Wednesday) since I'll be away from the computer. Thanks for reading! And please keep reviewing...

"Kyle, bubby, you haven't even touched your food," his mom noted.

And it was true. There they were, him, his mom, his dad, and Ike, all sitting at the table. Everyone was devouring the spaghetti in front of them (vegetarian, by the way and pretty good) except for the young redhead who wasn't even bothering to play with his food. His fork was still in the same spot as before and the steam coming off his plate was starting to lessen.

Kyle leaned back until the crook of his neck was resting on the top of the chair.

"Hm." What a brilliant comeback. He should write it down before he forgets it. "…not hungry," he mumbled, watching the ceiling fan go round and round and round.

"Well, you should eat something!" she scolded.

"Your mother's right, son. You're looking a lot skinnier."

"Hm."

"Wow Kyle, for a seventeen year old, you don't have a very exciting vocabulary."

He snapped. This was it, the straw that broke the camel's back. He shot out of his chair, eyes wide and breath coming in short gasps.

"_I'm_ sorry! I'm sorry I'm not a boy genious like _you _are! You ungrateful little asswipe of a fucking brother!" He paused. "No, I take that back. You don't deserve the title of 'brother' because you're just a whiney little Canadian bitch who always gets his way! Is that vocabulary exciting enough for you!? Or should I use bigger words?"

Ike stared at his brother. "Fuck you," was all he whispered before he got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Kyle stood a moment, red in the face, before turning to look at his parents shocked expressions. His mom opened her mouth to speak.

He cut her off. "Piss. Off." He started towards the door, then stopped. "You know what? Cartman was right. You are a bitch." And with that, Kyle left both his parents dazed and confused in the kitchen. His food sat, cold and forgotten.

XXX

Kyle stood impatiently outside the rundown house in front of him. He attacked the door with his fist again, surprised that it didn't crumble and fall down.

_God, Kenny. How slow are you?_

Just as he was about to give the door a series of knocks for the third time, he heard shuffling. The door creaked open, and a boy peeked out, his face hidden by a bright orange parka. He swung the door open all the way when he realized who was standing on his front step.

"Kyle! Hey dude!" Kenny moved aside and gestured for his friend to come in. Kyle followed and Kenny led him to the tattered couch. He looked for a place to sit, seeing that all the furniture was either mutilated or had a bunch of crap piled up.

Kenny noticed his uncertaintity. "Just throw it on the floor."

Kyle raised his eyebrow just slightly and tossed an overused blanket, three books, and a cigarette lighter down. He collapsed on the couch and then turned towards his poorest friend.

Kenny frowned upon seeing Kyle's face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were darting everywhere.

He focused forward, again. "Kenny, I really need a smoke right about now."

XXX

Stan sighed loudly. Goddamn Kyle. Where could he be? He was supposed to meet him here, right? Today was Saturday, after all. Wasn't it? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he got the day wrong. But one look at the calendar told him this wasn't so. He looked over at the clock. 6:58.

_Damn. I can't believe it. He stood me up. Asshole stood me up!_

He reached for his phone, flipped it open, and pressed in the numbers six six and six. Kenny's speedial. It rang once, twice, three times, and on the fourth ring was picked up.

"Hey."

"Kenny? Hey dude, it's me."

He heard someone sigh. "Me who?"

"Stan."

"Oh, hey man! What's up?"

It was Stan's turn to sigh. "I need someone to rant and rave to. I can't talk to Cartman," he explained, "because he'd rip on me. Not like he doesn't anyways. And I can't call Kyle since it involves him. So that leaves you…"

"That's nice, Stan," Kenny replied absentmindedly. "I can't talk, though. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Stan heard something drop. "Fuck! Where the Hell did you find that!?" Stan frowned. "Sorry," Kenny apologized. "I wasn't talking to you. Now what's up with you and Kyle?"

"I'm not sure. He was supposed to come over today so we could work on the History project together. But he never showed."

"Dude, he's here."

Stan cocked his head. "At your place?" _Fuck. He didn't just stand me up. He stood me up for Kenny. Fuck._ "Let me talk to him," he said slowly.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. He's a little…uh," Kenny searched for the right word. "He's a bit off balance."

"Huh? Off balance? Is everything alright?" Stan immediately took back everything he'd thought about Kyle prior to and during the call. If something was wrong, then it wasn't truly standing someone up…right?

"I don't know. He just came here, like, five minutes ago and he's been acting pretty wired up. He can't seem to stay still. Holy shit! Put that down! Jesus Kyle! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Kenny paused. "Hold on, Stan. I'll be right back." Stan listened as Kenny made his way over to who he could only assume was Kyle. A few seconds later, Kenny picked the phone back up. "Back. Look, Stan, I'll talk to Kyle about the assignment. I have go before he does something drastic…Fuck! You're supposed to _inhale_ those! Not eat them!" Something clicked and Stan was left listening to a dial tone.

"Bye."

XXX

Kenny dashed over to where his redheaded friend was in the kitchen. Kyle held a handful of cigarettes in his hand and was trying, unsuccessfully, to light them all.

"Christ, man. You're going to kill yourself," Kenny scolded.

"…I know. Who cares?" Kyle replied quietly.

"I care! Stan cares! God, even Cartman would probably care!"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Fuck fatass."

Kenny didn't miss Kyle's anger. "What did he do this time?"

"Nothing," Kyle replied calmly. It was the Gods honest truth. "He did absolutely _nothing_." He tried getting a flame so he could smoke. "Damn Kenny, this lighter sucks ass. Did you find it at the dump or something?"

Kenny growled. "Well, you don't seem to know how to work it. Let me help you."

He grabbed the lighter and tried to get a spark. Kyle looked down at his feet.

"Stan called."

Kyle snapped his head up. "Yeah?"

"Apparently you ditched him."

Kyle furrowed his brow. What did he do? Then it dawned on him. "Oh..yeah. That." He shook his head. "I totally forgot to call him. I meant to. I had to go…somewhere…Shit, he probably hates me, now."

Kenny shrugged. "Eh, I think he'll live…Here you go." He reached over and lit one of Kyle's cigarettes with the newly acquired flare.

Kyle took in a deep breath and sighed appreciatively. "Thank you. I really needed that."

"Yeah, I noticed," Kenny replied firmly. "Are you alright?"

"Great," he replied sarcastically. "Never been better."

Kenny narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it any further. "...Ok. Give me one of those," he demanded while reaching for one of the multiple smokes Kyle still held.

Kyle handed one to him and as he watched Kenny attempt at getting another spark, thoughts ran through his head.

_Damn, Ken's being pretty cool. I wonder how he'd take it if I told him that my mom made me see a shrink. I actually don't think he'd laugh. He'd probably sit down and we'd talk until I wanted to stop. Then we'd play the Wii. If he had one. _

"Hey, Kenny?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Can I tell you something?"

Kenny was about to reply, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the flame caught and jumped to his arm. _"FUCK!"_

Kyle looked on as his poor (in more ways than one) friend burst into flames and fell to the floor. His body was a charred mess and smoke rose to the ceiling.

"Never mind."


	10. Stop Living in the Past

Kyle slammed his locker door shut, praying to God that it didn't fall off the hinges. Any onlooker would just assume that he was angry and decided to take it out on the door, but honestly, Kyle just liked the noise. Ever since the…uh…incident, he jumped at the little things. Small noises reminded him of secrets and stealthiness. And sneak attacks. The quiet was just too scary. Nothing was happening, but so much could. The dark wasn't any better. He wasn't terrified of it, but he avoided turning out the light as much as possible. He didn't like not being able to see his surroundings. Everything looked dangerous at night.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and grunted at the weight. He was still making up all the assignments he had missed for the three weeks he had been gone. It was like all his teachers were out to get him. They all seemed to say in sweet, syrupy voices, _"Oh, look. It's Kyle. Let's all give him as much homework as humanely possible. And then, when he's about to pass out from exhaustion, let's give him even more and change the due dates on the original assignments! Yay!" _High school was torture. Especially Junior year.

A loud beep was emitted from his backpack. Kyle flinched before realizing it was his phone. He threw his bag on the laminated floor and groped for the cell. Upon flipping it open, he saw that he had two missed calls and two new voicemails.

One set was from Stan. Kyle pressed Send to listen to the message.

_Please enter your password,_ came the robotic prompt.

Kyle dialed in the four numbers quickly.

_You have. Two. Unheard messages. To listen to first. Unheard. Message. Press one._ The voice paused at the wrong spots, making everything sound out of place.

Kyle pressed one.

_First unheard message. Sent yesterday. At 7:55 PM. _

"Hey dude. It's Stan. Um…just wanted to let you know that you missed our date…oh, shit. Sorry. That sounded really gay. But I'm gay, so who cares? But you're not gay…Dude! You took too long to answer….Oh fuck. Am I a moron or what? God, of course you didn't answer. You're not even on the phone right now. Why was I even calling in the first place? I forgot…Oh, yeah. I talked to Kenny earlier. Are you alright? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want. So…uh…call me back or something so we can reschedule the History project to a different day. See you at school tomorrow. Bye."

Kyle smiled. Stan had a tendency to get off-track easily. He pressed seven and deleted the voicemail. He then proceeded to listen to the second message. It was sent from an unknown number.

"Hello, Kyle," the gravelly voice said. Kyle immediately stiffened. "It's been awhile. I thought you'd want to be left alone while you healed. I'm sorry for running out on you that day. It was my first time, and my conscious kicked in. We'll be keeping in touch, don't you worry about that. I'll be seeing you around, Kyle."

The boy was now sitting against the lockers. His legs were splayed outwards and his eyes were glazed over and looking forward, but not seeing anything. He couldn't get that voice out of his head. That voice belonged to a man who had caused him so much pain. It was _him._

His first thought wasn't, _Oh shit,_ or _How long?_ or even _How did he get my number?_ Nope. The first thought that ran through Kyle's mind was, _Well, this'll be an interesting story for the shrink._

He was still sitting, his breaths coming in and going out in little erratic gasps.

What did he mean by, "I'll be seeing you around"? Maybe it would be best not to go home tonight. But what about his family? There was no way he was leaving them alone with that psychopath. Absolutely no fucking way at all.

While Kyle was debating silently to himself, a figure stepped out of the nearby Chemistry Lab and walked over. The raven-haired boy saw his friend next to the lockers trying to control his shaking.

Stan rushed over and put a comforting hand on Kyle's shoulder. He felt the boy jerk beneath him.

"_Fuck!"_

Kyle tried to escape the grasp, thinking that the man had truly come back. He clawed at the hand. Stan tightened his fingers around the the jacket and gritted his teeth.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle. What the Hell!?" he screamed.

Kyle shot his head up. He recognized that voice. But he was too far gone in his own world to put a face to it. But his name was on the tip of his tongue. Well, that was a start, at least. He knew it was a guy. Or a very manly girl. Damnit, now he was back to square one. Kyle pressed his forehead into his palms and shook it vigorously. Stan momentarily lost his hold and didn't try to grab Kyle, again, for fear of having another body part torn at.

"Kyle?" he asked warily. "Kyle? What's wrong?"

His friend continued to shake his head, mumbling something under his breath. Stan had to listen very carefully to decipher the words that fell from the redhead's mouth.

"No, no, no, no. Oh, God, please no," he begged. Tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

Stan bent down so he was face to face with Kyle. He placed his hand on Kyle's knee, partly to support himself and partly to comfort the boy in front of him.

"Kyle? Hey, dude. What's wrong?"

Kyle shot his head up, and for the first time, Stan could see his face. His skin was extremely pale, like all the blood had been drained from it. His eyes were slightly glazed over, but they appeared to be seeing his surroundings and taking them in. Finally he looked at Stan.

"S-stan," he stuttered.

"Kyle."

"Oh God. Stan. Fucking shit."

He stood up slowly, not blinking once.

"Kyle, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "I'll be fine."

_I'll be fine?_

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh? Nothing. Nothing. Why would you ask that?" Kyle asked hurridley.

Stan narrowed his eyes in concern. "You said, 'I'll be fine.' That obviously means that something's wrong with you," he explained slowly. "And stop shaking so much. One Tweek is more than enough to deal with."

"S-sorry."

"But really, Kyle. What _is_ wrong?"

Kyle searched frantically in his mind for something to tell Stan. "Family problems," he told him. "My cousin is really sick."

"You hate your cousin," Stan reminded him.

"Not that cousin. A different one." God, everyone hated his cousin. The one with the same name. He was so Jewish that even Jews loathed him and wanted to end his existence. No one had succeeded, although the boys had tried countless times.

"Hm. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go shopping with me." Stan dropped the subject. He really didn't like seeing Kyle this freaked out. He must really love his cousin.

"Yes!" This was perfect. A great opportunity. Maybe Stan could get his mind off of his current problems. "I'd be glad to go!"

"..Ok. Now?"

"Why not? Go out earlier. Stay out later. Works for me," Kyle babbled on.

"Ok. I get it. You can stop, now."

But Stan was happy that his friend had decided to take him up on his offer. He hoped that this would take Kyle's mind off of his cousin.

Too bad he didn't know that it would only lead to things worse than a sick relative.

XXX

"What exactly are you looking for?" Kyle asked, taking long strides to keep up with Stan's short, quick steps.

"Something for my mom. It's her birthday, soon, you know?"

"Isn't your mom's birthday in August?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It's May."

"So?"

Kyle groaned. "So, isn't it a bit early to go shopping for her?"

"I don't think so. People start shopping for Christmas before Halloween is even over."

"Yes, but that's a major holiday. This is your mom's birthday. Besides, what would you even get her?"

"I dunno. Jewelry or something, probably," Stan decided.

"Hey, what about this place?" Kyle yelled.

Stan turned to see that Kyle had stopped right next a Primrose Jewelers about three stores away. He hurried over and the two boys went inside.

Stan headed towards the pendant section where a young man was sitting.

"How can I help you boys?" he asked.

"I'm looking for a present for my…girlfriend," Stan explained. There wasn't any way he was going to tell a complete stranger that he was looking for a gift for his mom. And he only said 'girlfriend' because the residents of South Park only pretend to be tolerant of homosexuals.

"Ah." The man opened up a glass case and pulled out five different pendants. "What's the occasion?"

"Birthday." He scanned the items in front of him. "What about this one?" he asked, pointing to an white gold Iris with a three opals.

"Good choice, young man. One of our finest quality pendants. Also our most expensive."

"…How much?" Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.

"Five."

"Dollars?"

The man laughed. "No, five thousand."

"Oh." Stan frowned. "I only have three hundred. Is there anything cheaper?"

It was the man's turn to look downcast. "Our cheapest item is six hundred. Maybe you should come back when you have some money. Now why don't you head out?"

"Why? I'm still looking."

"Yes. Looking. Not buying. Looking doesn't help business so maybe you should take yourself somewhere else where you can actually afford to buy something." He rolled his eyes in the general direction where Kyle was. "And take your friend. He's giving me the creeps."

"Fine," Stan said venomously. "Let's go Kyle. We're not wanted here."

"Yeah. Ok," Kyle said slowly. He was deep in thought, and Stan had a feeling that he shouldn't ask any questions.

Outside, the two boys decided it would be best to go separate directions. They could cover more ground that way.

Kyle passed a cheap jewelry store, two fruit stands, and a Pharmacy.

…Wait. A pharmacy?

Kyle stopped his trek outside the drug store.

_Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I not?_

The 'Should I?' won over.

Kyle opened the door and heard a bell jingle to notify an employee that a customer was there. He headed towards the back, where the pain medications were. Tylenol, Advil, more Advil, some special organic stuff. Kyle knew what he was looking for. But where the heck was it? It was probably one of those behind-the-counter drugs. He headed to where the pharmacist was.

"What do you need?" she asked nicely.

"Sleeping pills. I don't care what brand," Kyle answered quickly.

She pulled out a pad of paper. "Name?"

"Steven Rite. R-I-T-E." He didn't want word to get around that he himself, Kyle Broflosvki, had been buying prescription drugs. Especially since only he knew why he was getting them in the first place.

"Age," she continued.

"Eighteen," he lied. He hoped she believed him.

She kept on writing. After a few more questions, she grabbed a bottle off the shelf and Kyle gave her the money.

"Here you go. Have a nice day. Come back, soon."

_As if that's going to happen,_ Kyle thought grimly. He stuffed the pill bottle into his pocket and went back on his jewelry quest. He saw Stan running up to him.

"Hey…dude," he gasped. "Find…any…thing?"

He seemingly didn't know what had just happened.

"No."

"Oh, okay then. What about that place?" He pointed behind Kyle at a trinket store.

Kyle turned and opened his mouth. Then something caught his eye. Or some_one_, actually.

"There's nothing there."

"Dude, look. There's a lot there."

Kyle swiveled around. He glared at his friend. "There is nothing there. Let's just go."

Nothing except _him_. The man. Walking down an aisle. Kyle prayed to God that he hadn't been noticed. But if he had, he didn't want Stan to be seen, too. He didn't want anything to happen to him. Kyle could never live with himself if Stan was hurt. He didn't want to think of him as dead.

"What's your problem?" Stan bit back. "What the Hell is the matter with you!?"

_Please, Stan, don't make me do this. Please. I don't want to._

"You. You're my fucking problem. Stop acting like we're little kids. That's in the past and it's time you started living in the present."

"I don't know what the Hell you're talking about," Stan replied flatly.

"Of course you don't. Also," _Oh God, interrupt me. Don't let me say it._ "Also, you should just leave me alone. People are starting to assume things."

"Like what?"

"That we're together."

"So? That never bothered you before." Stan looked like he was about to cry.

"Yeah, well, this is high school. It does bother me. I don't want to be seen with you if it's going to ruin my reputation…Sorry," Kyle said sarcastically.

_Oh, fuck, Stan. I am. I really am sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. But I have to if I want to protect you. Please, Stan. This is for the best._

"…But…wh-what about S-s-super Best F-f-friends?"

_Yes Stan. You'll always be my Super Best Friend. Forever and ever. I promise._

"That's in the past. I mean, come on, we're not eight, anymore. I don't think I can even be your friend at this point. People already assume enough about me. Why add 'faggot' to the list? Goodbye, Stanley."

XXX

Kyle sat on his bed contemplating and planning. He didn't want to take the pills here, in case his parents came in. Or even Ike. He really hadn't meant to snap at him. Kyle decided it would be best to go somewhere where nobody could bother him. Suicide was a private matter, after all. Kyle wasn't going to waste time writing a letter. What was the point? He didn't want anyone to worry. He checked the time. 8:59 PM. Close enough.

He opened the window and started down the trellis.

XXX

Stan looked over at his watch. It was 9:36 PM. He had been thinking about the day. Kyle hadn't been acting like himself. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what…Right after he got some sleep.

As soon as he finally fell under, someone rudely opened his door.

"What the…?" he said groggily. He saw his mom standing in the doorway.

"Stan, honey, Sheila just called."

"Yeah?"

"Is Kyle up here with you?"

"Do you see him anywhere?" he snapped. Sharon grimaced. "Sorry. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, God. No Stanley." She looked to Randy for help.

"Well, son, your little friend Kyle is missing."

XXX

"Why the Hell am I even here?" Cartman asked angrily.

Stan had managed to get a hold of him and Kenny because even though Kyle was being an ass, he wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Because, fatso, Kyle's missing."

"So? Have the cops look for him."

Kenny widened his eyes. "Have you seen the police force here, lately, tubby?"

"Ay! I thought you two wanted me to help!"

"Yeah," the two boys answered simultaneously.

"Well you've both called me names in the past twenty seconds. Screw you guys. I'm going home."

Eric Cartman was a very overdramatic person.

XXX

Kyle sat next to the oak tree at Stark's Pond. What a nice view. Too bad he was going to ruin it with a dead body. He felt bad for the person who would find him.

He pulled the childproof cap off and downed four pills. That should be enough.

The peacefulness was broken when he heard someone walking towards him and muttering under his breath.

"It's always me. Poor boy is never even here. Hippie is a faggot. And Jew can't even take care of himself. It's always me. Why am I the one who alwa-" he stopped upon seeing the boy in front of him, sitting on the grass under the moonlight.

Kyle's eyes were starting to droop, Cartman could see this. But he was smiling. Why the Hell was he smiling?

"Kahl?"

Kyle wanted to say, "Go away," but he couldn't form the words.

Eric saw his eyes finally close all the way and Kyle's breathing evened out until it was barely noticeable.

He was going to leave. He was going to head home, grab a bag of Snacky Smore's, and watch TV. He was going to do all this and more, until he saw the bottle.

"What do we have hyeah?" He read the label. "Oh…oh shit. Kyle?"

_Don't do this to me, again. I can't keep saving you! _He saw the others walking past. _But they can._

"Stan! Kennah! Over here!"

He stuck the pills into his jacket. Why? He didn't even know. Nothing was making sense, so why should that? Why couldn't anything make sense?

**Author's Note:** Uh-oh. Is Kyle going to be ok? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Is that weird?


	11. I'm Not Morman, So I'll See You in Hell

Death isn't any easier than life. You still have to be a certain person to fit in. You want to go to the cool parties? You have to be a jock. The same applies to the afterlife. Do you want to go to Heaven? Sorry, but you have to be a Mormon.

_Death is painful and life is a blur,_ Kyle thought to himself.

_Death is painful._

_**Beep.**_

_Life is a blur._

_**Beep.**_

_Death is a blur._

_**Beep.**_

_Life is painful._

_**Beep. Beep. Beep.**_

"Is he awake? He's not moving, are you sure he's even alive?"

_No_, Kyle answered._ I'm dead. Is this Hell? Kenny didn't do a very good job at describing it. Speaking of which where is he? Did he already come back to life? And why is Hell really cold? Isn't it supposed to be super hot and fiery and shit? And where's the Lord of the Underworld? Where am I?_

"He's moving. He's shaking."

"Get him some blankets!"

_Why is it so cold here? Why is it so fucking cold? It's too cold for Hell. Too cold…_

"…for Hell."

Everyone in the room paused what they were doing to stare at the supposedly unconcious boy. A doctor stood nearby the bed with a set of paddles in his hand. Kyle hadn't been very loud and the effects of the drugs were still wearing off, so nobody really knew what he was saying, but everyone had heard him mumble _something_. And nobody cared what he had said, but Stan-who for some reason had been allowed into the hospital room. This _was_ South Park, after all-had leaned in closer to his friend.

"What did you say?"

Kyle muttered his reply and tried rolling over, but stopped because he felt an oddly familiar tugging sensation in his arm.

_"It's too cold for Hell."_

"He's awake! He's awake! Oh God, Kyle!"

The doctor quickly pulled Stan away, seeing that he had suddenly attached himself to the pale boy on the hospital bed.

"He's weak."

"Don't…talk…about me…like…I'm not…here," Kyle gasped out. "And…don't…fucking…call me…weak."

He started to sit up but was pushed gently down by a pair of hands that didn't belong to the doctor. It was okay, though. He didn't think he'd be able to make it all the way, anyways. Everything was numb and his head was throbbing. He really could go for a couple pain pills right about now.

And that thought reminded him of why he was here in the first place.

"Why am I here?" he said quickly. He blinked a couple times, hoping it was a dream. _Can you dream in Hell?_ When the sights around him didn't change, he realized what was going on. He shook violently. "I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't right. I shouldn't be here!" He started to sob and Stan reached out to tenderly stroke his hand.

"Relax, Mr. Brofloskvi. Try and stay awake, though." The doctor waved at the others. "If you would all be kind enough to leave?" They walked out of the room, quite unwillingly. Kyle didn't even know half of them. They were probably new interns or something like that. He turned back towards Kyle. "There's someone here who wants to talk to you."

He furrowed his brow. Who was it? His parents? The person who caused him to do this in the first place?

The figure sat down silently in the chair next to the one person bed. Kyle groaned inwardly.

"Hello, Dr. Barnes," he said quietly.

"Hello, Kyle. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah, I mind, but you aren't going to give me much of a choice, are you?"

The shrink ignored Kyle's snippy attitude and pulled out a sheet of paper along with a pen. He clicked it open and began. "What exactly happened?"

Well, that was blunt, wasn't it?

"I blacked out and woke up here."

He sighed. "Before that. What happened before that?"

"Nothing," Kyle shrugged. "I went shopping."

The man's ears seemed to perk up. "What were you shopping for?"

"I wasn't shopping for anything. Stan was."

"And Stan is the raven-haired teenager?"

"Yes. Can we be done?" Kyle asked as politely as possible.

"Not yet. We can stop for a few minutes, though. How about I turn on the television?"

Before Kyle could resist, the remote had made it's way to Dr. Barnes' hands and the machine had come to life.

_"Oh Jorge! I love you so much and I only slept with David to make you je-"_

Kyle shook his head and the channel changed.

_"Just look at those abs! Who doesn't want these ripply-"_

"God no."

_"…just in from the small community of South Park. We go to a black man in women's clothing for the full story."_

The scene changed from the inside of a news studio to a group of houses close to where Kyle lived.

_"Well, Tom," _the black man said in surprsingly light voice,_ "It seems that some recent break-ins have the townsfolk acting up." _The camera panned to a group of bored adults._ "Let's see what they have to say."_

_"Well, I don't really see what the big deal is. I heard that some cute Antonio Banderas guy was doing all the robbing. Or should I say rubbing? Because I'd let him rub-"_

_"Shut up Mr. Hat! Nobody wants to hear your gay fantasies about having Antonio go down on you in the hot tub!"_

Kyle gagged at Mr. Garrison's outburst. He couldn't believe he still had that stupid hand puppet. At least he didn't teach with it anymore. Saying that it would be awkward would be the understatement of the century, hands down. Excuse me...Hand puppets down.

_"What's got these people so riled up?"_ the news reporter asked no one in particular. _"Well, a man has been seen around this neighborhood and lately, people have noticed things missing. One woman can't find her fuzzy handcuffs-"_

_"-They're cheetah print!-"_

_"-And someone else said his medicine cabinet was raided. Are these the doings of the same person? We hope not, but with out any evidence, all we can do is wait for an answer."_

_Wow,_ Kyle thought. _We really need some new newscasters. The one's we have now suck. _

_"Also, a young boy has died today." A photo flashed onto the screen. "Kenny McKormick was seventeen. He leaves behind his mom, dad, brother, sister, uncle, cousins, second cousins, aunt, step-uncle, second uncle…"_

_Jeez Kenny. Got enough people living with you? Where the Hell do you keep them? _

He let out a small laugh. Dr. Barnes glanced over at him with confusion in his eyes.

"What do you find so funny about this, Kyle? A young boy has died!"

One look at the doctor's expression only caused Kyle to crack up more.

"You don't understand!" he huffed. "Kenny dies all the time!"

"Kyle, you're delirous. I'm going to call in the nurse so she can give you some sedatives."

"I don't need them. Just let me explain," Kyle somewhat begged. The shrink bobbed his head. "Ok. I've known Kenny for as long as I can remember. He's one of my best friends. Ever since he was little, he would die and come back to life. Die. Come back. He has been to Hell, which is pretty crowded by the way, since only Mormons are allowed in, and he's been chosen, I guess, as a messenger or something for Satan and God. He's never gone for very long, except that one time when we were eight and he had a terminal illness. I think he was dead for three months or so. Except he wasn't truly gone. Wherever Car-Eric went, Kenny went too."

"Like a guiding spirit? Gaurdian angel?"

"Fuck no. His spirit was trapped inside the fatass because he drank his ashes thinking it was chocolate milk mix. It was freaking hilarious!" Kyle giggled madly and the memory. "I'm not lying. I swear it on my dead grandmother's grave. Just ask Stan. He knows what I'm talking about."

"Maybe I will. I still think you're delirious, Kyle, but I'll ask anyways." He walked out of the room and Kyle listened as he made his way to Stan.

Some words were exchanged and the doctor came back into the hospital room. Kyle saw that his face was a little paler than usual.

"Told you," Kyle smirked.

"Yes, yes you did. Such a strange occurrence. Can we play a game?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What game?"

"I'll give you a theme and you tell me your favorite section. Like if I say 'Color' you'll give me your favorite color," he explained. "Make sense?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't worry. You'll catch on. Food."

"That doesn't make sense," Kyle told him. "You'll catch on food? Something about that sentence doesn't really click."

"Food is your first word, Kyle."

"Oh, I feel stupid now," Kyle scolded himself. "Uh…food. Um…favorite food. Fave food-"

"-You're taking too long to answer, Kyle."

"-Favorite food. I don't know. Pork," he finally decided.

"Pork? Aren't you Jewish?"

Kyle paled. "Yeah. Don't tell mom? Please?"

"Patient confidentiality," the doctor confirmed. "Color?"

"Uh…teal…Yeah. Teal."

"Getting better, Kyle. Song?"

"Stinky Britches."

It was a stupid, outdated song, stolen from Chef, but that's why he liked it. It reminded him of the big black man who would always be there for them and seemed to have a song for every problem they had. Even if they all had to do with sex. It was still nice to know that at least one adult in South Park was somewhat sane. But he was dead now, for almost ten years and all Kyle had were stupid, fading memories. He couldn't picture the school chef anymore, but he could remember almost all his songs word for word. How's that for whacked up?

"Hm. How about your favorite person?"

"Stan."

They'd been Super Best Friends for as long as he could walk, so of course Stan was the first name that came to mind when he thought of his favorite person. But he had yelled at Stan. He made him cry. And yet Stan was here, at Hells Pass. But it wasn't like nothing had happened between the two. Normally, Stan would've barged in by now, demanding to see Kyle and yelling at the doctors for neglecting to let him do so. This time Stan was out in the waiting room, sitting in a padded chair, glaring at the receptionist as if this was all her fault. Kyle knew it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. Why did he have to be a caring human being? Why did he have to try and help Cartman? If he hadn't he wouldn't have had hot dogs with Cartman and the man wouldn't have attacked him and everything would be normal. But Kyle couldn't know that for sure. After all, the man had said, 'Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?' So this was planned and couldn't be blamed on past events. Kyle groaned loudly.

"I'm done," he announced.

"I'm not. Tree."

Kyle stayed silent.

"Favorite tree, Kyle," the doctor prodded.

"Shut up. I said I'm done. Done. Done. Fucking done!" he yelled. "I can't fucking do this anymore! I can't act like everything's fine! People are being blown up to promote world piece, which I just know my mom has something to do with, and my problems are fucking miniscule compared to that. But I can't fucking to it anymore. Tell Stan I'm so fucking sorry. I was a complete ass to him and I was only trying to protect him. Tell Eric that I keep my goddamn Jew gold in the third tile to the left of the bathtub. And when he comes back, let Kenny know I'll be seeing him in Hell. Now, please leave. I don't care if you call in a nurse, so long as you get out of my sight."

Kyle expected some sort of response. For the doctor to put up a fight. Something, anything. If he had done just that, Kyle wouldn't have thought twice about his plans. But the doctor obeyed his command and left. He didn't call anyone in.

When the coast was clear, Kyle ripped out his IV. Who cared? He wouldn't need it where he was going.

He made his way to the cabinets where the medications were usually kept. Kyle opened up the mirrored door and searched silently, not hearing someone come up behind him.

"Where is it? Where is it?" he muttered.

The figure behind him spoke. "Well, well, well. I always thought I'd be the one to kill you, Kyle, but it appears that you have other plans."

**Author's Note:** Not my best work, but I'm happy with it. I might end up changing things around after I finish.


	12. Opening Up

**Author's Note:** Sooo sorry it's so short. It's just a conversation between Cartman and Kyle, since they haven't interacted much lately. I didn't have much time to work on it, so it's not the best, but I wanted to update. It's not my favorite chapter, since I kept changing it, but I think it ended up okay. Reviews are appreciated.

Kyle sneered. _"You." _He turned to face the larger boy.

"Yes, _me_," Cartman replied, annoyed. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"How the fuck did you get in?" Kyle spat venomously.

"I opened the door, dick wad," he answered. "And you never answered my question. What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"Killing myself," Kyle replied calmly.

Cartman stiffened. He hadn't been expecting that sort of response from the redhead. He'd always read that the person committing suicide wouldn't be so…open…about their plans. And the way Kyle was talking, it was almost like he had been thinking…planning this for awhile. He thought back to when he had picked up the sleeping pills. There hadn't been very many missing, indicating that Kyle either didn't want to waste them or he didn't want people asking questions. But, that didn't make much sense. Of course people were going to ask questions when they found his body with prescription drugs nearby.

_God, this is probably a lot simpler than I'm making it seem,_ Cartman groaned inwardly.

"Why are you just standing there?"

Kyle's voice broke through Cartman's thoughts and brought him back to reality.

Kyle continued. "Why aren't you doing anything? Why aren't you acting like yourself? You're just standing there. Usually by now you'd either have walked off or tried to help me die. Why aren't you acting like yourself? This isn't the Cartman I know-"

"-This isn't the _Kyle_ I know," Cartman cut in. "What the fuck happened, Kyle? You haven't been the same. You…you keep sending me mixed signals. First you're not talking for God knows how long and…and then…you start talking and you disappear and I find you…and," he pulled out the bottle, which was still in his coat pocket, "I found this. What the Hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck are you doing to me, Kyle? I'm so fucking confused and your actions…they aren't really helping matters." He stopped and looked at Kyle's face. His expression was slightly pained and he seemed to be in debate with himself. "I won't stop you. You seem like you really want this…you want…want to…die. It's like you planned it or something. I…I just don't know, anymore. Everything's so confusing and you just…Stop. Stop making me feel this way. I don't know whether I'm supposed to do something or just let you make your own decisions. Why are you doing this?"

"The past isn't worth remembering. I can't escape it unless I have no future…Where did you find that?" Kyle reached out for the pills, but Cartman pulled his hand away, thus keeping them from reaching the redhead.

"You're not very good at hiding things. Especially when you're unconscious. I picked it up off the ground."

"Why?" Kyle asked, confused and angry. Cartman had somehow managed to sidetrack him from his original course. _Damnit_, he could've been dead by now. Everything would've been been over and done with.

"…I don't know. Honestly. I don't know." He changed the subject quickly. "You do know you're bleeding, right?"

Kyle looked down to see a bright red line running down his left arm. Blood and some clear fluid oozed out and a steady rate. What was that clear stuff? Kyle wasn't sure if it was plasma or the liquid that had been pumping progressively into his body before he had so brusquely yanked out the IV. He was probably going to bleed out.

…Hold on. Why was he thinking about this? Who cared if he bled too much? He'd be dead, but Cartman's words were starting to get to him and…

"…Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Kyle grunted. He rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache that was quickly forming. Why was dying so fucking complicated? Life should be complicated. Not death. He slipped down until the waxed floor was right underneath his butt. Cartman watched as one single tear broke free and rolled down his face, leaving a red trail behind.

Cartman thought about reaching out to help him. But he wasn't one for comforting others. It just wasn't how he was. So Cartman kept his distance while, for the first time since the attack, Kyle let his feelings surface.

"I can't do this," Kyle admitted.

"Can't do what?"

"This." Kyle motioned around him with a big wave of his arm. "I'm sick of _this._ I can't deal with all the fucking problems I have. First I get sick. Then nobody even tells me what was wrong with me. And then I lose my job for the stupidest of stupid reasons. And…and…some creep practically admits to stalking me and almost kills me. And then he calls me…I just can't deal with this any-fucking-more."

Cartman stared in shock. Kyle was being so calm. He was telling Cartman - Eric Fucking Cartman - about his tribulations. Something was seriously wrong here. Something about this scene before him wasn't right. Kyle's openness was scaring him a little, but at the same time made him feel protective. And that was the thought that terrified him the most.

As Cartman fought a silent war with himself, Kyle reached over for a cup of water. The orderly had been nice enough to leave him something to drink while he was unconcious, which he supposed was nice of her, but seriously, what was he going to do with it? How was he supposed to drink it while "sleeping"? Yeah…he _wouldn't. _

Three chugs later Kyle was looking at the bottom of the empty cup and Cartman was starting to walk away.

As he opened the door, he turned around and started to speak. And then he noticed, really _noticed_, Kyle. He was now laying on the ground and droplets of sweat were forming on his temple. He was panting and Cartman could see that his limbs were starting to shake.

Kyle grunted and bit his lip to hold in a scream. What the Hell was going on? All he had done was drink some water and now his body was acting up. Kyle stared in horror at the cup and realized what had happened.

Eric made his way over cussing under his breath the whole way. Goddamn Kyle and his problems. Why was he making him a part of it?

He reached down to pick the boy up and take him over to the bed, but Kyle chose that exact moment to go into little convulsions and Cartman lost his grip causing the poor Jew to fall to the floor.

He cursed and picked up Kyle a second time, managing to keep a hold of him.

"Stop moving so much!" he demanded.

And Kyle tried, but his body wouldn't listen. He let out a big breath, not realizing he had been holding it in. Cartman set him down, as gently as possible, on the bed and watched in horror and fascination while Kyle writhed in pain. His knuckles were turning white from gripping the bed sheets and his muscles were beginning to ache. A mixture of saliva and blood created a thin line of pink fluid in the corner of his mouth.

And just as quickly as the episode began, it was over. Kyle was laying there, trying to breath normally. He gradually released his death-hold on the coverlets and moved his head to look at Cartman. His eyes were half lidded and glazed over. Tears were spilling out at an alarming rate.

The larger boy looked uncertain. He moved towards Kyle, then stopped and glared at him. He pressed the call button and was answered by a young woman's voice.

"Yes?"

"C-can you s-s-send a nurse…to Kyle Brofloskvi's room?"

"Someone is on their way," she said in a soothing, yet fake, tone.

Cartman hung up and glanced at the redhead, who's eyes had closed sometime in the past twenty seconds. His breathing had gone to normal, but he was still sweating profusely and his skin was still abnormally pale.

Eric was almost positive this would be the last he'd see of Kyle, and for some strange reason, the thought made him feel…_sad._ He opened the small door. His hand shook when it touched the cool metal knob.

"I'm…I'm sor-ry, Kyle," he whispered. He closed the door behind him.

Author's Note: Yeah, the ending really really sucked. I'm thinking about changin it later, but, eh, who knows?


	13. Important

Hey everyone, I'm really sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time. I've been really busy with some home life problems and homework. (Yes, homework. I have to do it to get into Advanced Sophomore English.) I'm not purposely ignoring my stories; I just haven't had time to work on them. I really hoped to finish Darkness Darkness and It's Always the Last Place You Look over the Summer, but that probably won't happen. So, I'm just gonna put them on hiatus until I can get some free time. Once again, I am truly sorry. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me. Please continue reviewing, because I will be able to check in every now and then; I just won't be able to update. Again, thanks and sorry.

Peace and Love,

StupidityIsStupid


	14. Authors Note I'm SORRY

Well…Here we go. Please don't hate me! I'm permanently keeping It's Always the Last Place You Look on hiatus…Or at least until I figure out where I want to go with it. I'll keep the story online, and it's up for grabs for anyone who wants to take it and continue with it…Or change it…Or start over…Or whatever. I've spent the last few months writing new chapters and rewriting old chapters and every time I go through them in my head, they sound pretty good, but once I read it on the paper, nothing flows rights and it's all choppy. I'm sure I'll get my spark back that started the story, and perhaps then I'll finish it, but I'm not sure when that'll be. Again, I'm so so sorry.

Thanks so much to EVERYONE who reviewed, favorited, story-alerted, etc. Hell, thanks to the people who DIDN'T review or hated it. At least you read it.

My apologies,

StupidityIsStupid

PS My other story, Darkness Darkness, should be continued shortly. I'm not so mean that I'll abandon two stories at once. Plus I pretty much know where I want to go with this one....And I'm working on a nice-long one shot with lots of dark angsty betrayal.


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